


Succubus Diaries

by 0zero_metallix0



Category: Worm - Wildbow
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Succubi & Incubi, F/F, Humor, Magic-Users, Sexual Humor
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-10
Updated: 2018-02-23
Packaged: 2018-05-06 00:00:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 10
Words: 30,728
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5395088
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/0zero_metallix0/pseuds/0zero_metallix0
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A bad day and alot of frustration pushes Taylor too far and wakes her mothers legacy. Now Taylor has new powers and responsibilities but that doesn't mean she can't have a little fun.</p><p>Worm Au: Magic is real. Succubus Taylor.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 1-1

Stupid, stupid, stupid! Why did I bring it to school? I should have known Emma and her friends would find it. My locker wasn’t safe, I knew that, but I just couldn’t put the stupid thing down.  
  
I paced up and down the girls bathroom while I tried to control the panic. I’d brought the book to school with me today—I’d hoped to find some time to read it during lunch, but now Emma had it.  
  
Having a book to read was nothing unusual for me. Ever since Emma had turned on me, along with most of the school, I didn't have much else to do but read. The problem was the subject of the book.  
  
When I’d picked it up, I just thought it was a generic science-fiction story and the synopsis on the back had been interesting enough for me to buy it. What the cover didn’t mention was aside from the interesting characters and battles to save the galaxy, there were steamy, toe curling sex scenes between the lead and her lesbian lover. _Dad nearly walked in on me twice!_  
  
It’s not like I could just go home. They would only be waiting for me when I finally returned!  
  
_I need to calm down._ I moved to the sink and tried washing my face. Panicking wouldn’t help any. Putting my glasses back on, I looked at myself in the mirror.  
  
Tall, stick thin, with a too-wide mouth. The most feminine thing about me was my hair, and even then, stress was starting to take its toll. I’d been forced to shorten it a bit after someone _accidently_ singed it during home ec.  
  
In a fit of anger, I punched the mirror in front of me. The mirror cracked and pain shot up my arm. Blood was already starting to run between my fingers. I quickly turned the tap on and stuck my hand under the water.  
  
I let out a small hiss and started trying to clean the wound, still cursing Emma and my life. Oddly, I felt better. Actually, I felt good. Really, really good.  
  
_As Lita deftly sutured the wound with practiced movements, London bit her lip, holding back the moans of ecstasy._  
  
A passage from the book came to mind and I giggled slightly. Either I was suddenly a masochist or adrenalin was making me giddy.  
  
The feeling of warmth was starting to spread through my body, pooling between my legs. More passages came to mind, mixing with the pain, anger and frustration. I should be panicking, something was clearly wrong with me, but it just felt so good.  
  
As the heat built between my legs, I grabbed the sink for support. That’s when I saw the markings on the back of my hands. They looked like scales and as I watched, I could see them growing more visible. The skin around them paling to a grey colour. _What is this?_  
  
I screwed my eyes shut and tried to block out the warmth. I had to stop, What if someone came through the door? I bit my lip to stop myself from moaning.   
  
The warmth shifted and I could feel my chest pressing against my clothes. the shifting cloth sending sparks of electricity through my body. My clothes were starting to pinch and pull in places, but the feeling only pushed me further.  
  
My back twitched and I heard the sound of tearing cloth. I was nearing my limit, everything felt wrong but _so good_ , and the fire in my body was drowning out everything but the delicious feelings in my core that was edging ever closer.  
  
The world went white.  
  
Sweet release hit with the force of a bomb and I struggled to stay standing, the sink the only thing keeping me upright.  
  
By the time I could think straight, I was still breathing heavily and everything felt different. My clothes were pinching me and I could feel a draft across my torso. Slowly, I opened my eyes and gasped at what I saw.  
  
_I’m huge!_  
  
The girl looking back at me was part Barbie doll and part fitness instructor, with a little bit of lizard thrown in. I slowly moved my eyes downwards as I studied my reflection.  
  
My skin was pale, bordering on grey but with a healthy shine. The colour made my now-red eyes stand out, and there was a glowing ring in each eye.  
  
I also had horns on the sides of my head. They curled forward and down so the point was level with my mouth. There were dark scales on my forehead, the same colour as my horns, that ran down the the bridge of my nose where they came to a point. I had more following the line of my jaw and running down my neck.  
  
When I brought my hand up to touch them, they felt smooth and soft, yielding like skin. There were more scales on my hands, starting just before my knuckles and running up my arms.  
  
That brought my attention to the other changes. My figure had filled out drastically, and I could see faint traces of muscle when I moved. My shirt and bra were nothing but rags, but it wasn’t my chest that had destroyed them. It was my wings.  
  
Bat-like and coloured the same unnatural black my hair had gone, they didn’t look big enough to hold my weight, but I suspected I could still fly with them anyway. Turning to look at them revealed another change.  
  
I had a tail!  
  
It started at the base of my spine and reached to just past my calves.  
  
“Fuck!” I muttered. Even my voice was different; I sounded more like Mom.  
  
I lost track of time staring at myself in the mirror and the sound of shouting outside broke me out of my thoughts and kicked my brain into gear.  
  
I was standing topless in the middle of the school looking like something from a fantasy game! My blush nearly covered my entire torso.  
  
I needed to get home, My pants were tight but they would survive. My hoodie was on the floor near my bag, but— _yeah, not happening_ —there was no way I was getting that on over my new wings and boobs.  
  
Maybe if I covered my face I could just run for it? Get to the roof and see if I could fly? No one one would recognise me like this… I gave myself another glance in the mirror before giving up on that idea.  
  
My face had changed, yes, but not that much. I was still recognisable—even if no one would be looking at my face. Maybe I could…  
  
I tried moving my wings. Maybe they would be flexible enough for me to wrap them round my body. _It would help if I could look like—woah!_  
My wings stretched round my body, taking on a shadowy appearance as they did so. As they moved, my body shifted and I found myself look like I did this morning. _I’m a shapeshifter?_  
  
This had potential. the only thing missing were my glasses. I frowned when I realised I hadn’t even noticed their loss. I found them sitting in the sink and quickly put them back on. Thankfully, everything was just as clear with them as it now was without.  
  
Could I make myself look like other people? I focused and my body shifted. Emma stared back at me from the mirror. A small part of me noted that I was now bigger than her. Emma smiled; now this had potential. I could even use this to get my book back.  
  
I was just deciding on a plan when the door opened.  
  
“Emma?” the girl asked. “I thought you were with Sophia?” She was one of the interchangeable people that followed Emma everywhere these days.  
“Oh… um...” I struggled to cover my surprise or even remember her name. In the end, I shrugged. “Canteen food, what can you do?”   
  
“Ugh, tell me about it,” she said as locked herself in one of the stalls.  
  
Not wanting to hang around, I grabbed my bag and gave the stall a quick glance. I shifted back to normal and walked outside. I soon abandoned my plans to recover my book; there was a strong draft in the corridor and I realised that my shirt was only an illusion.  
  
Blushing, I quickly made my way outside. I needed to get home. School shut for winter break after today—that gave me two weeks to find some new clothes and possibly tell Dad about this.  
  
Not wanting to risk someone bumping into me on the bus I decided to jog home. Despite being mid-winter, I barely noticed the temperature.  
I was almost halfway home when I realised something. I could shapeshift, I hardly felt the cold, and I wasn’t even winded from the run. I had powers, I was a cape! I couldn’t help but laugh.  
  
Dad’s truck was in the driveway when I got home—his shift must have ended early today. I tried to not make too much noise when I opened the back door but it didn’t matter anyway; Dad was already sitting at the kitchen table, hunched over some paperwork.  
  
He looked up as I came in. “Taylor? What are you doing home?” he said in surprise.  
  
I wracked my brain for an excuse, but before I could come up with anything, Dad frowned.  
  
“And why are you wearing a glamor?”


	2. 1-2

“A-a glamour? I-I don’t know what you mean, I’m fine!” I frantically tried to think of something to say. Dad could tell it was an illusion? Did that mean he can see me _topless?? Oh god! Wait, why did he call it a glamor? Wasn’t that a type of magic?_  
  
Did that mean my shapeshifting was magic and not a parahuman ability? Everyone knew magic was real. There were at least three magic users in the Protectorate but nobody knew how you went about learning it or why only some people could use it.  
  
Dad stood up and walked towards me, I tried to back away but that would mean being back outside. He put a hand on my shoulder and I couldn’t stop myself from flinching.  
  
Realisation dawned and his expression shifted from concerned to surprised and finally a sad smile. “Oh, Taylor, I’m so sorry. I never thought… Wings?” I nodded and he sighed. He didn’t hug me, thankfully. Instead, he placed both hands on my shoulders and looked me in the eyes.  
“Go get dressed. I’ll explain everything, I promise.”  
  
##  
  
Getting dressed was easier said than done.  
  
By the time I made it back to my room, I was starting to feel a growing pressure in my body, like a tensed muscle. It wasn’t unbearable but I’m not sure how long that would last. Relaxing, my body immediately shifted back to my other state.  
  
It looked like this was my ‘real’ or default appearance and I couldn’t just stay transformed forever. I peeled the remains of my clothes off and tried to find something that would fit the ‘new’ me. I quickly realised I would need new tops, new jeans, new... everything, really.  
  
My hips were too full for any of my jeans and my underwear was uncomfortably tight, not to mention my tail made it impossible for me pull them all the way up, so I went without. A pair of baggy tracksuit bottoms at least fit me, though being without underwear just felt weird, and I’d need to be carefully about bending over.  
  
But what could I do for a top?  
  
I pulled out a couple of tops from my closet to try on. The first was a simple t-shirt. I had some trouble getting it past my horns but with some careful positioning I managed it. I then ran into another problem— _or was that 4 problems?_ —at the back; the shirt was caught up where my wings joined my back. And at the front, I had no real hope of stretching the shirt over my chest.  
  
I tried anyway, twisting and flattening my wings in different, and mostly uncomfortable, ways. Trying to force myself into the shirt taught me two things. One, my body was much more sensitive than it used to be, and two, I was possibly stronger. A mistimed tug tore the shirt at the front.  
With a sigh, I removed its remains. There was a blouse on my bed but just looking at it gave me visions of popping buttons, so I picked up the tracksuit jacket. If I moved my wings just right I could get it on and it was baggy enough that I could get it closed up front.  
  
A look in the mirror however showed that I was clearly not wearing a top or bra of any kind. I wasn’t sure I could sit like that infront of my Dad, never mind actually go shopping. What's worse, trapping my wings was really uncomfortable.  
  
I was debating taking a pair of scissors to the back of my largest shirt when there was a knock on my door.  
  
“Hey kiddo, I’ve got some of your Mom's things out here if you need them,” Dad called out. “I’ll be in the living room when you're ready.”  
  
I waited until I heard him reach the bottom of the stairs before I opened my door and pulled the box inside. I know Dad meant well but I couldn’t see any of Mom’s clothes fitting me.  
  
She wasn’t too different from how I used to look. In fact, I was a good bit taller than Mom.  
  
Still, with nothing to lose I opened the box. My jaw very nearly hit the floor.  
  
The clothes inside were not what I expected. Mom had always dressed fairly conservatively, she’d been a college professor, after all. I’d expected a box of her old shirts or sweaters, but sitting on the very top of the box was a corset—a quarter of a corset anyway—with lace across the top and several parts that were nearly see-through.  
  
I didn’t know much about corsets but I got the impression this was meant for the bedroom. Blushing to my toes, I moved the corset to the side and tried to find something a little more suitable.  
  
As I dug through the clothes, it dawned on me that most of it tended towards the Victorian look. Most of it was black or purple, Mom's favorite colour, with lace and ruffles. There was even a purple half-cape with a ragged bottom. A white corset with black stripes was carefully wrapped up with a long blue dress.  
  
Thinking back, I couldn’t remember seeing Mom in any of these. Maybe they were from her time at university, or her time with Lustrum? Another thing I realised was the sizes were all wrong, being much larger in the bust and hips than I remembered Mom as and almost everything was low-cut on the back or completely backless.  
  
Eventually, I found a shirt that fit me. Getting it on, however, was not easy. My horns kept getting caught on the shirt and then I struggled to get them through the collar. My wings were actually the easiest part. Moving them was no harder than lifting an arm and felt completely natural.  
Looking at myself in the mirror, I realised I was standing differently. I couldn’t really feel the weight of my horns, but they were there and I was aware of them. The wings especially were throwing my balance. Turning my back to the mirror I lifted the back of my shirt and made my wings twitch. I could see the muscles on my back shift and move with them.   
  
It was only as I shifted back to my old appearance I realised I could have done so first and then gotten dressed. Remembering that for next time, I made my way down stairs.  
  
Dad had carried a number of boxes up stairs while I was getting dressed. He was just struggling with a large one when I arrived. I moved to help him and ended up lifting the box out of his hands almost effortlessly.  
  
Dad chuckled at my expression and showed me where to put the box. There was a strong smell coming from the boxes but I couldn’t for the life of me describe what it was. It was like trying to explain the taste of yellow. I also noticed a strong whiff of whiskey; there was a small glass of it on the table.  
  
Opening one of the boxes, Dad pulled out a framed picture and stared at it, lost in thought. “Can… Can you show me?” he asked hesitantly.  
I couldn’t look him in the face. Keeping my head down, I relaxed, letting my body shift back. As it did so, I was forced to move forward a bit on the sofa—my wings and tail were going to make sitting an issue.  
  
Dad let out a gasp; I couldn’t stop myself from looking up at him. I’d expected to see fear but instead, Dad had that same sad smile. He held out the picture to me. “You look just like her,” he said quietly.  
  
My jaw dropped when I saw the photo. It was clearly an old picture, taken on a rooftop or something near sunset, but what shocked me was the woman. She looked a lot like me, our skin and hair looked similar in colour and I could see the dark scales on her face and hands. Her horns were slightly different; mine pointed down near my mouth, but hers curled up.  
  
What really shocked me was her face. “...Mom?” I asked, looking to Dad. He nodded.  
  
“Yeah, that’s Annette, your mother as she really looked.”  
  
I could feel my body shaking. This was Mom? What—how? Why did I never know? I struggled to get my thoughts in order, to form something coherent.  
  
A hand landed on my shoulder and I realised it was Dad. He was muttering something as he ran a hand through my hair. Eventually, I calmed down enough to ask.  
  
“Why?” Why what? I wasn’t really sure where to start, let alone what I wanted to know.  
  
Dad gave me another sad smile and sat down in the armchair in front of me.  
  
“Let me start from the beginning. You, Taylor, are my daughter and _nothing_ will ever change that.”  
  
He waited for me to nod before he continued, “Your mother was what most people would call a succubus,” I tried to protest but Dad held up a hand to stop me. “No, not the evil soul sucking demons you’ve probably read about.”  
  
“Their actual history is complicated but I think there is a book in this lot somewhere that can explain it better. For now, I’ll try to keep things simple…”  
  
Dad wasn’t great at explaining things but from what I could understand, reality was like a bubble with lots of smaller bubbles inside of it. These smaller bubbles were pocket dimensions that often overlapped or leaked into each other, and Earth sat in the middle like an anchor.  
  
One of these ‘pocket dimensions’ are where succubi came from. Going by what Dad knew, it was actually quite a nice, if hot, place.  
“So, how did Mom get here?”  
  
“She was summoned. It’s not hard if you know what you’re doing, and have enough power backing you up. I’ve done it myself a few times, but never anything on that level.”  
  
_Wait, what?_ “You can use magic?”  
  
Dad sighed and opened up another of the boxes. “Yeah, I fancied myself as quite the wizard once. That’s actually how I met your mother.” Reaching into the box, he pulled out a staff that was nearly as tall as him.  
  
I stared open mouthed at him. There was no way that should have fit. Dad chuckled and laid the staff on the coffee table.  
  
“Your mother was summoned to this world by Lustrum. She couldn’t use magic but she knew about succubi and she was fascinated by their society. Succubi are all women,” he explained. “Naturally, this makes their society a matriarchy.”  
  
Lustrum had been a feminist cape years ago. At first she had only wanted equality and quickly built a large following of mostly college-aged girls. I didn’t know the full story, and Mom had never liked talking about it, but apparently things had escalated. Peaceful protests became violent, and equality became subjugation.  
  
Eventually her followers started mutilating any man they could, and while nobody knew if Lustrum supported it or not, but she was willing to accept the responsibility. In the end, she was sent to the Birdcage and her followers disbanded.  
  
I could see how an all female society would appeal to her, but Mom always told me she left before things turned violent. Was that a lie?  
“I’m not sure who did the actual summoning,” Dad continued, “but your mother is the one they pulled through. Unlike normal summonings, they made no attempt to bind or control her. Lustrum just wanted to talk, and Annette was a teacher at heart, even then. She stayed with Lustrum and answered her questions. When things started going bad, Annette argued against it. Eventually, she left to go her own way.”  
  
Dad paused to take a drink. I let everything he said sink in. it wasn’t too different from what I already knew but it didn’t answer the biggest question I had.  
  
“Why did nobody tell me?”  
  
Dad sighed. “It’s complicated, kiddo. Part of it was simply because children can’t keep secrets.” He shot me a knowing look and I flushed with shame; I’d been six, damn it!  
  
“The other reason was that we didn’t want to upset you.”  
  
“Why would I be upset?”  
  
“Because what you’ve done—” he waved at my wings “—should be impossible. Succubi have a very low birth rate. They use ritual magic to conceive and even then there is no guarantee of success. Humans and succubi can have children but it’s rare, your mother beat the odds just to get pregnant. We both knew, right from the start, you would either be human or succubus.  
  
“Children with a human parent are either one or the other, there is no ‘half’ and it shouldn’t have been possible for you to change that. Annette explained all this to me before you were born. It never changed how we felt about you but Annette was worried how you would feel about her. It’s not unheard of for human children to hate their succubus parent.  
  
“We both suspected you would have magic. We even planned to teach you when you were old enough. But then… after...” He struggled to get the words out. Even now it was hard to think about, and we still never talked about Mom’s death.  
  
Giving up, Dad shook his head. “After that, I wanted nothing to do with magic. I boxed everything up and just tried to forget about it.”  
The air grew heavy and Dad took another drink.  
  
“H-how did you really meet Mom?” I asked. They had always told me it was through some friends at college but now I doubted it.  
  
Dad smiled and some of the life came back to his eyes, “After she left Lustrum, your mother focused on getting her teaching degree. That’s where I met her. I knew, as soon as I saw her that she could use magic. It was like finding a diamond in the street and I’ll admit, I got a little obsessed with her. I’ll skip the details, but I was horrified when I realised just what your mother was.”  
  
He laughed at my surprised expression, “There is no formal education for magic users, we are all self-taught or taken as an apprentice. The only book I had that mentioned succubi was more fantasy than fact and I was convinced she was evil. So one night, I confronted her. I’d spent ages preparing and had dozens of spells and my new staff ready… Your mother thought I was ‘the most adorable little demon hunter she’d ever seen’,” he admitted with a blush.  
  
Dad stood up and started digging through another box. “After she kicked my ass, she sat me down and explained everything to me. We started spending time together and well, you know what happened after that. Here, these were hers.” He handed me a couple of books.  
  
The first looked professionally made and had a picture of stylised wings and horns on the cover. “That’s the most accurate book you can find on succubi. Your mother made me read it. The other is her personal journal. She started writing it when she was pregnant, it was supposed to be everything she wanted to teach you.”  
  
Mom’s journal was a leatherbound book with floral prints on the cover. It was filled with Mom’s neat handwriting, and I skimmed through the first few pages. It read more like a notebook; ideas were scribbled in the margins and sections had been crossed out.  
  
What really drew my eye was a line of symbols near the bottom of the page. I didn’t know what they meant but as I looked I could feel them trying to draw on… something. I reached towards it but Dad stopped me.  
  
“Is that...?”  
  
“Yeah, it’s a spell.” He turned his head to get a better look. “It’s… a light spell. Safe enough, go ahead.”  
  
Wondering what he meant, I turned my attention the ‘spell’, it looked more like a complex maths formula than anything else. I could feel that pulling sensation and I reached out. My fingers brushed the page but nothing happend. I gave Dad a questioning looking but he simply nodded.  
  
This time, I focused on the pulling. Did the spell need something? I tried to push against the sensation and gasped as I felt something inside of me shift. The words on the page started to glow. But I lost concentration, and the words went dark again.  
  
I tried again, but this time, I didn’t stop until all the symbols were glowing. I watched as they detached themselves from the page, an ethereal copy floating just about the original writing.  
  
Taking a calming breath I reached for the symbols and they merged into a glowing sphere. It felt delicate in my hands, like it would break if squeezed too hard. Dad mimed a gentle throwing action and I realised what he meant.  
  
I threw the sphere. It hit the far wall and the room was filled with a bright white flash that left after-images on my eyes. I turned in shock to Dad who was grinning broadly. I broke into a smile of my own. I could use magic!  
  
“So… I know it’s a bit late, but how do you feel about learning magic?” Dad offered, hugging me tightly. “We can make a weekend of it.”  
  
I could use magic. This was something Emma and her friends could never take away from me.  
  
I wouldn’t let them.


	3. 1-3

After dinner, Dad sat down with me at the table and started teaching me the basics of magic. He’d dug a collection of books out one of the boxes. We’d ordered takeout as neither of us were really up to cooking after everything else that had happened today.  
  
“This is your basic primer. It contains the full runic alphabet and a brief description of what they mean.” He passed a slim leather book to me. “By writing these in the correct order you can create a spell.”  
  
He pulled a piece of paper towards himself and quickly wrote down a spell. “In theory, writing a spell is simple. You state the target—” he circled the first half of the spell he’d written “—then the effect. Go ahead and look up the runes, see if you can tell me what this does?”  
  
I flipped through the book, making notes on a sheet of paper. Each rune could form one syllable or it could be a word on its own or a part of a polysyllabic word. The first rune I found was… ‘Open’? it took me a bit of reading to realise that the rune before it stood for ‘Define’ or ‘Target.’  
_Oh, I get it!_ I quickly scribbled ‘Target Open’ on the sheet. The next rune was ‘Light’  
  
_[Target {Open}; Light {Blue};]_  
  
“It’s a light spell, like the one I tried earlier but coloured blue?” I wasn’t too sure about the last part but Dad smiled and nodded.  
“That’s right. Interesting idea on the notes, where did you learn that?”  
  
I looked at my notes and I realised I’d what I'd been writing. "It’s the pseudocode my computer science teacher was showing us."  
  
“Makes sense, most magic users have there own way of making notes. Now, can you think of a reason for using ‘Open’ as the target?”  
  
“... Because there isn’t one. This just creates a flash of light wherever the spell lands?”  
  
“Exactly, if we replace ‘Open’ with ‘Hand’ you would get a spell that works a bit like a flashlight. Now this is just spell crafting at its most basic, it gets much more complicated once you start adding conditions."  
  
It took me much longer to translate his next spell.  
  
_[Target {Hand}; Light {Blue}; Direction {Forward {Hand}}; Power {User {Constant}};]_  
  
“That’s more or less it,” Dad said. “The ‘Constant’ means the spell will last as long as you continue to feed it power. You can add all sorts of conditions such as timers or triggers as you see fit. It all depends on your imagination. Why don’t you try creating a couple of your own?”  
  
Dad busied himself making us both some tea while I worked. In the end, I created a spell that should act like a stun grenade, a loud bang and bright flash that shouldn’t effect me if I got the runes right. I also made one to conjure water.  
  
Looking the formula over, Dad seemed impressed. “Protecting yourself against your own spell is a clever idea. For the most part, you are immune to effects of your own spells. For example—” he created a ball of flame in his hand “—this fire will not burn me while I’m channeling power into it. If I was to set the table alight, however, I would no longer be protected.”  
  
“This brings us to some basic safety rules: don’t try cast a spell unless you know exactly what it will do. And I don’t want you using ‘Constant’ until you’ve gotten accustomed to feeling your magic. If you cast a spell that requires more power than you can supply it will start to drain your body. In some cases, this can be lethal.”  
  
He closed his hand, snuffing out the flames.  
  
“How did you do that?” I said. “I didn’t see you write anything down.”  
  
“Hmm? That’s why you should be very careful about casting spells you didn’t write yourself. With practice you’ll get more familiar with a spell and will be able to get the same effect using less runes. Eventually, you’ll be able to cast your most common spells without writing anything. This means a spell someone else has written may be missing important runes. A lot of magic users find that out the hard way.”  
  
As Dad explained it, anybody could write spells, but only people who had magic could use them. But there were exceptions, of course; it was possible to store magic in objects or devices that could then be used by others.  
  
Apparently, this was actually a bit of a problem, as it meant there was a large number of enchanted artifacts around that anybody could use. What’s more, if a magician used the same spell book for a long period it would slowly develop a charge. The ‘scrolls of Merlin’ were said to have so much magic stored in them that they couldn’t even be handled safely.  
  
Dad didn’t go into too much detail as most of that was high magic theory and not something I needed to worry about for a while yet.  
  
Returning to the lesson, Dad quickly scribbled another spell. Rather than have me translate it, he asked me to close my eyes and focus power into it.  
Doing as he asked, I felt the same pull from earlier. Dad explained it as the spell trying to draw on my magic.  
“Now, this spell has no power runes, this means any magic you put in will immediately evaporate. For now, I want you to feed energy into it and see if you can feel the flow of your magic. When you are confident enough, try increasing or decreasing the flow. This is so you can learn how to cut off a spell if you need to.”  
  
Putting my hand over the spell, I felt the same pulling sensation as before. Pushing against it I could see the runes starting to light up but they never got beyond a dull glow. Closing my eyes, I tried to ‘feel’ my magic.  
  
After a while, Dad made me stop and take a break. It took me four attempts before I was able to feel it. It was impossible to describe, it felt like liquid fire was moving through my body and into the spell. By focusing on where I could feel the ‘drain’ I found I could ‘push’ against it to increase the flow, or ‘pull’ to slow it. Stopping the flow altogether was much harder and the effort left me breathless.  
  
As I opened my eyes, Dad put a hand on my shoulder and smiled proudly  


##

  
By the time we called it a night, my head was swimming in information and I decided to take a shower to help me relax.  
  
Stripping down, I ignored my reflection in the small bathroom mirror. It wasn’t big enough for me to see more than my face in it and I would never get anything done if I kept stopping to stare at myself.  
  
I gave the shower a minute to warm up before I stepped in, but even then, the water was barely warm. Frowning at the dial, I realised it was at my usual temperature. Dad had said I was tougher now and that succubi came from a hot world so I shouldn’t be surprised.  
  
Carefully turning the dial, I got the shower how I liked it. Washing my hair had always been a chore, and the addition of horns only made the task more arduous as my wet hair kept tangling on them. But my hair was my best feature and I went to pains to keep it looking nice.  
  
Standing under the shower head, I was very much aware of the spray as it hit my body. Closing my eyes, I let the feelings wash over me as my hands explored my new appearance. My fingers brushed over the scales on my body and I wondered if they would need any special treatment. As my hands worked their way up, I could feel heat starting to pool between my legs and gently bit my lip to stifle a moan.  
  
One hand ghosted across my breasts, catching a nipple and giving it a tweak, causing me to gasp. It seemed so bizarre for my scales to be so hard and my flesh so soft, and yet for the sensation to be almost the same, even as — I gasped again. My hand had brushed across my nipple, and almost without my thought it returned, fingers rubbing and pulling at that little nub of flesh as my other hand slid back down again, across my stomach, down further—Fuck! I held my breath, my mouth ajar as my fingers pried my folds apart, so soft and slick and—  


##

  
By the time I got out of the shower, I was having trouble keeping myself upright. I pulled some of Mom's clothes on and did my best to dash up to my room, despite the occasional muscle spasm and my face being flushed with embarrassment.  
  
I didn’t see Dad as I passed but I thought I heard him moving around in the basement. Hopefully he hadn’t heard me. I don't think I’d made much noise.  
  
My face was still burning when I reached my room. I wasn’t completely innocent, I’d… explored myself in the past, but it had never been that intense. Just thinking about that was enough to get a reaction, and I quickly searched for something to distract me.  
  
Grabbing the book Dad had given me, I forced myself to focus on that. The book was a bit dry, despite its subject matter, and there were little comments scribbled on some of the pages that I recognised as Mom’s handwriting. Mostly it was just minor corrections, but on one page almost everything had been scribbled out, and a piece of paper was tucked between the pages with what I assumed was the corrected information.  
  
Shifting on my bed, I couldn't get comfortable. Between my tail and wings laying on my back to read was uncomfortable, and my chest made laying on my stomach just as difficult.  
  
Giving up, I sat up and stared at myself in my full length mirror. Despite my time in the shower I was still a little wired, so I decided to satisfy my curiosity.  
  
I spent some time poking and prodding my new additions. My horns were a lot like my nails, I could feel it when they were touched but that might just be the weight pulling on my temples. My wings were quite sensitive and running my hand across the thin membrane made me shiver. My tail got more sensitive the closer to the joint you got.  
  
Pulling my top off, I examined the scales on my body but I was quickly distracted by my breasts. They were large, firm and nicely shaped. Putting my hand underneath I lifted one to get a feel for the weight.  
  
I wouldn’t be surprised if my enchanced strength was simply so I could carry them. A passage from the… erotic book Emma had stolen popped into my head, making me blush. Wondering how it would look, I held my hands above my head and shook gently. Watching my reflection, the movement was… hypnotic.  
  
Giggling quietly to myself, I decided to try something else. I brought a nipple up to my mouth. It feel… odd. Not bad, actually kinda pleasant, but I couldn’t really see the appeal. Maybe it was the angle, or I needed to do more… I mouthed at it, kissing it. Oh… That was better. My tongue flicked across it and my hand tightened in response. _Oh..._  
  
I looked up at the mirror and saw myself almost devouring my flesh. The view was kinda... kinda hot. Closing my eyes, I let my mind wander. _‘Lita slowly crawled her way up her lover's body, her fingers leaving trails of fire—”_  
  
It was really late by the time I finished, and I was glad I didn’t have to worry about school. Pulling my clothes on, I quickly nipped into the bathroom to clean myself up. I noticed my bottom lip was quite red where I had bitten it in an effort to keep quiet, and there was even a little blood.  
  
Hoping it wouldn’t be too visible tomorrow, I went back to my room, finally feeling satisfied.  
  
Now that I had calmed down, I was a little worried about how I’d been behaving. Being more sensitive was one thing but I didn’t want to end up spending every day stuck in my room, only able to—well, explore myself. Especially if it made moving around so hard. Those orgasms were—had been— _fantastic_ , but if it came at the cost of any attempts at coordination failing due to their sheer trembling wonder…  
  
I wasn’t sure who I could really talk to about it. God, just thinking about asking Dad made me feel ill.  
  
Spotting the book I’d been reading, I decided to give it another try and see if there was anything in there.


	4. 1-4

Sighing in contentment, I took another bite out of my burger.  
  
After nearly two weeks of reading, lessons in magic, and relaxing, I was finally starting to feel ‘normal’. My reflection no longer made me jump and I could look at myself in the mirror without blushing. I’d also finished… changing.  
  
I’d thought that after the first, rather drastic change, I was done, but it turned out I was wrong. Over the last two weeks I’d developed extra abilities. Like a form of empathy that manifested as taste, I could literally taste how the people around me were feeling. Good or happy moods tasted sweet and pleasant while darker moods tended to be bitter.  
  
I hadn’t realised until then that Dad was just as depressed as me. It hung like a cloud around him, tasting like ash. Thankfully, it had lifted slightly over christmas, but it still worried me. _The faint, but constant, smell of whiskey doesn’t help either._  
  
Another thing I’d also realised, was that I could ‘smell’ magic. I couldn’t tell you what that ‘smell’ was, it was like trying to explain how burning purple tasted, but it was so unique I could always recognise it.  
  
The final change was the reason I was sitting in the food court at a mall a safe distance from my house.  
  
Closing my eyes, I felt the energy around me being given off by hundreds of people, and allowed myself to drink it in. I could eat normal food without a problem but my new body needed something _more_.  
  
Succubi needed energy to live and they had two ways of getting it. Active ‘feeding’ which involved pinning a victim down and forcibly drawing energy from them. Or passive ‘feeding’. That’s what I was doing now.  
  
Apparently, it wasn’t really viable in the past but as cities grew bigger and more crowded it became easier.  
  
All living things gave off energy, some of Mom’s books referred to it as the light of the soul, or proof of existence. All I knew was that people gave off energy, and things like emotions tended to affect that. Passively feeding from one or two people was nearly impossible but with enough people in one place none of them would even notice the small amounts of energy I took from them.  
  
It had been a relief to know I didn’t need to kill or seduce people to feed. According to everything I had read and what Dad told me, most people who were fed on by a succubus recovered within a day or so and that it didn’t require sex.  
  
Feeding during sex simply made it easier to hide what happened. People understood why they were utterly exhausted after a passionate night in bed, after all.  
  
I didn’t have to ‘feed’ of course, I could survive on normal food, but I would quickly lose my extra abilities such as my enhanced senses and the power to shapeshift.  
  
Shaking the thoughts out of my head, I closed off my connection to the world around me. Thankfully my borrowed clothes were baggy and thick enough to hide my lack of a bra. Right now, I could probably cut glass.  
  
It happened a lot when I ‘fed’. Apparently, while I didn’t _need_ sex to ‘feed’, the two were still connected so ‘feeding’ tended to be… arousing.  
  
I was finally getting used to my new level of sensitivity, even if I did still get wound _up_ and _off_ easily. The book Dad gave me explained that all succubi had high libidos but it was Mom’s journal that had explained _why._  
  
Mom had put lines through everything the book said about where succubi came from and wrote the real story in her journal.  
  
With a shudder, I pushed that thought away and stood up. Knowing someone had designed my body, from the way it reacted to my orientation, made my skin crawl if I dwelled on it too long.  
  
The mall I was in was spread across three floors and the upper most was the food court. If I worked my way downwards, I could get everything I needed and leave.  
  
Not wanting to look out of place, I had used my shapeshifting to hide my scales, wings, tail and horns but for the sake of getting clothes that fitted, my figure was untouched. While I could shift to fit into my old clothes, I still couldn’t hold that shape for more than a few hours, and when my body changed back, it tended to ruin my clothes.  
  
If however, I was wearing clothes that fit me before shifting, I could change them with my body and not worry about stretching them out when I changed back. _Even if bursting out of my clothes_ was _kinda hot._  
  
Glancing around as I walked, I spotted another guy watching me and blushed. I couldn’t help it, my hips swayed when I walked; I think it was because of my tail.  
  
That aside, I had to stop blushing every time I caught someone looking at me. The clothes I were wearing were the most loose-fitting I could find but I was still attracting looks. _Though that guy walking into a wall when I stretched_ was _funny._  
  
That’s why I was at this specific mall. It was as far as I could get from Winslow and Emma’s house. Nobody who would recognise me shopped here.  
  
Taking a breath, I decided to start with underwear. I couldn’t keep going braless and I was curious about my size. There was a large store in the middle of the mall that had a women's underwear department, I figured I’d be able to find something there that fits me.

 

##

  
Five minutes later, I came to the sinking realisation that this was going to be harder than I thought.  
  
I had no clue what my sizes were and there was no fitting service here. The best I could do, was use Mom’s sizes as a starting point but I was both taller and bigger than her so they weren’t much to go on.  
  
Then there was the choices. Anything that looked even remotely close to fitting me was either some fragile, semi-transparent lace affair with no support or looked like it belonged on an old woman. _And forget about finding a sports bra._  
  
For one brief moment, I actually found some that looked like they would fit and looked nice. But when I picked one up, I realised it had the major flaw. _Why are they padded?!_  
  
Seriously, I’m already size ‘holy shit look at her’. “I don’t _need_ or want padding,” I growled in frustration and hung it back up.  
  
“It’s because they’re typically designed by a man,” a girl next to me said, making me jump. “Not having much luck?” She was shorter than me and a bit mousy, her brown hair was frizzy and there were freckles on her face.  
  
“U-um, no… Fashion really isn’t my thing,” I explained.  
  
Could the ground just swallow me now please?  
  
“Hmm, well I hate to say it, but I don’t think you’re going to have much luck in here,” she said, gesturing to the clothes around us.  
  
With a sigh, I put it back; I’d picked up without thinking.  
  
Giving me a pitying look, she held out her hand. “Here, how about I help. My name’s Amelia but my friends call me Amy.”  
  
For a second, I considered making my excuses and just leaving. I could do this another day, I’d just wear some of Mom's clothes or something for now. I’d never been great at making friends and after Emma I wasn’t sure I wanted to try again.  
  
Before I could however, it dawned on me that I didn’t need to worry it. I could ‘taste’ the honest concern she was giving off. It was tinted with something… musky… I couldn’t quite place but it was still pleasant.  
  
Steeling myself, I took her hand. “T-Taylor, and thanks.”  
  
She seemed to lose focus when we shook hands but recovered quickly. “No problem, What do you actually need to get and do you know what sizes you are?”  
  
“Umm, not really? I kinda had a growth spurt over the holidays and now nothing fits. I was hoping to get some jeans, some tops and some… underwear,” I explained, hoping she wouldn’t press for too many details.  
  
This time, she gave me an open mouthed stare as she looked me up and down. “Oh that’s just not fair,” she muttered. “Okay,” she said in a much more normal voice, “I don’t think you’re gonna find anything here. let’s work our way outwards, there’s a lingerie store further down that does proper fittings, we should head there and get your sizes first.”  
  
The shop she was talking about was huge with two massive windows out front. Each window was large enough to house three mannequins side by side, each in different lingerie. For privacy’s sake, the displays were boxed in so passers-by couldn't see more than what was close to the door.  
  
Inside, the store was decorated in pinks and blacks with a little silver thrown in, and that same musky smell hung in the air. It wasn’t purely a lingerie store if the displays were anything to go by and I had to fight down a blush at some of the merchandise.

Amy walked down the aisle to a screened off area where a young woman was waiting. I missed what she said when I noticed one of the posters on the wall.  Is that Emma? It certainly looked like her and I knew she did the occasional modeling job, but this?

Between the risque pose and lack of clothes I mistook her for someone older.

“Taylor? you okay?” Amy called, making me blush.

“Y-Yeah, it’s just… I think I know her.” I waved at the poster.

“Oh yes,” the shop assistant said, smiling, “we recruited local models for our new displays.”

“But isn’t she a bit… young?” I asked.

The assistant looked confused. “What do you mean?”

It might have been wrong, but I couldn’t stop the feeling of satisfaction. “That’s Emma Barnes, right? She’s fifteen. We’re in the same classes.”

The assistant paled and I could taste the worry pouring off her. “E-excuse me!” With that, she hurried off, probably to talk to her manager.

“You’re fifteen? Huh, I thought you were closer to seventeen,” Amy said giving me another look. “I guess that explains why you didn’t know your size.”

I was just thinking of a good lie when another young woman came over and politely ushered me into changing room. With a bit of urging, I pulled my top off. The assistant stared and I could taste her surprise. After that, it didn’t take long to get my sizes.

“I’m _how_ big?!”

Outside, I heard Amy choke back a laugh and that musky smell got stronger.

I was still blushing when the sales assistant helped me find several bras in my size, including two sport bras and some matching bottoms. While she was giving me some tips, Amy was looking between me and a nearby display. “Y’know Taylor,” she said, “I think you would look great in a corset.”

The one she was looking at was was labeled as an ‘underbust’ corset. It was a corset that stopped under the breasts, and next to it was an ‘overbust’ corset that covered the breast. They did look cool and from what I had seen of Mom’s clothes, she was very fond of them.

Maybe I could try one?

“Do they even do them in my size?” I asked, paling when I saw the price tag. The underwear was already taking most of my money, there was no chance I could afford one of these as well.

“I’m sorry but we don’t really stock them in your size. We could order some in for you if you are interested? Or you can try here,” the assistant said, smiling and handing me a card for a shop off the boardwalk called ‘Parian’ “She does a lot of custom clothing so she might be able to help you out.”

“Ooh I know her,” Amy said. “She’s not cheap though.”

With a shrug, I pocketed the card—it wouldn’t hurt to hold onto it—and went to pay for my purchases. After I paid for everything, I checked with the assistant and quickly ducked back into the changing rooms, slipping into one one of the sport bras. I'd barely needed a bra before, even if I did make sure to always wear one. Wearing one after nearly two weeks without felt odd but I knew I'd get used to it eventually. 

As we left, I could see the shop assistants pulling down the pictures of Emma, and one of them was talking frantically on the phone.

Back in the earlier store, it took a few tries but I soon found some jeans in my sizes. The entire time, Amy and I were talking. We never really spoke about anything important, just general small talk. Being with Amy was nice, it was like having a friend again.  
  
I did learn that Amy liked to read and, through an accidental comment from me, was reading the same sci-fi series as me, which had set us both to giggling.  
  
One odd thing was that I kept catching her staring at me. Occasionally, I would turn and her eyes would snap upwards to my face or I’d see her giving me this odd look out the corner of her eye. Everytime she did, I could taste her embarrassment at being caught and that same musky smell/taste. It was only when I caught a guy giving me the same look and getting a slap from his girlfriend in return that I realised what it was.  
  
On the upside, I think I knew what I was smelling/tasting.  
  
Amy was attracted to me!  
  
I wasn’t sure how to feel about that. I’d spent the better part of a year being insulted by Emma, being told how plain and unattractive I was, having my complete lack of any feminine features thrown in my face every day.  
  
It wouldn’t have been so bad if somebody, _anybody_ aside from Greg Veder—my own personal stalker—had shown any interest in me, physically or mentally.  
  
I’d never had anyone attracted to me and wasn’t sure what to do about it.  
  
Eventually, I decided that it was harmless to just enjoy it for now.  
  
Feeling playful, I picked up a pair of jeans that were just a little bit too small and took them into the changing room. Slimming my legs down a bit, I slipped into the jeans and carefully changed back.  
  
The jeans creaked slightly, and it was too uncomfortable to do this for long, but it worked. They clung to my legs and backside so tightly they looked painted on.  
  
Opening the curtain I called out to Amy, “What do you think?”  
  
When I turned to look at the mirror behind me, I could see the reflection as she stared, open mouthed, at my backside.  
  
“How do you get into those!?” she asked.  
  
“Well you can start with flowers.” The words were out of my mouth before I could stop them and we both went scarlet.  
  
Ducking back into the changing room, I peeled the jeans off and tried to calm down.  
  
Okay, maybe that was taking it a little too far.  
  
When I left the changing room, Amy was still blushing but we both decided, without saying a word, to act like it never happened.  
  
We ended up spending so long in the mall that we decided to get dinner in the food court. We were still making small talk when Amy’s phone went off.  
  
“Damn, sorry, one second.” Checking the screen, she frowned and shoved her phone back into her pocket.  
  
“I’m really sorry but I have to go, something's come up. I had fun today, we should… maybe... do it again?” she asked the last part with a blush and I realised that yes, I would like to meet up with her again.  
  
“Sure,” I said with a smile and blush of my own.  
  
I didn’t have a cellphone so we had to settle for swapping email addresses.  
  
Picking up my bags, I made my way outside. There were some payphones just inside the doors and I used one to call Dad so he could pick me up. There was no way I was going to take this lot on the bus.  
  
It was dark out by the time Dad arrived in his truck. Throwing my bags onto the back seat, I climbed in.  
  
“Hey kiddo, I thought you would be done hours ago. Did anything happen?” he asked.  
  
“Nothing really, I just ran into someone and we got talking. We ended up having dinner together.”  
  
Dad smiled at me. “Good, in that case, I take it you had a good time?”  
  
“Yeah, it was… nice.”  
  
Things were finally looking up.


	5. 1-5

Looking at my reflection in the mirror, I considered adding another inch or two to my figure.

Today was the first day of school since the holiday and I was trying to decide how I should look.

My tail, horns and wings of course, had to be hidden and my face was mostly unchanged but I wasn’t sure what to do about my new figure. I couldn’t just walk into school looking like this, the change was far too drastic to be passed off as a simple ‘growth spurt’.

Even if I was ignored by most of the school, Emma would certainly notice.

I could already hear the rumors of surgery and padding.

At the same time, I didn’t want to go back to school looking like my old self.

I’d spent most of last night thinking about it and in the end, I came up with with a solution I thought would work.

Dressed in my new clothes, I shifted back to my original appearance. Then, I added just a little bit of growth to my chest and hips. I worked slowly, adding a little bit then pausing to examine the changes.

I stopped when the changes were just starting to be noticeable but still small enough that people wouldn’t ask questions. Two weeks was enough time that most would just label it as natural growth.

Then, over the next couple of weeks, I would slowly increase my sizes. I wasn’t sure where I would stop but eventually, I would reach a point I was happy with and over enough time that it wouldn’t raise too many eyebrows.

Admittedly, the idea of walking into school with only my demonic features hidden was a tempting one. No hiding, no pretending, just me. Not that I had the guts for that, just thinking about the amount of attention that would bring made me feel sick.

Still, I felt comfortable enough to hold this form for a few hours at least, especially if I ducked into the toilets during the lunch break and shifted back to normal. It would be a bit of a risk but five minutes rest would be enough to let me keep the disguise up for the rest of the day.

Checking myself over one last time, I decided I was good to go and made my way downstairs. Dad was eating his breakfast when I reached the kitchen.

Aside from a curious look at my appearance, he didn't say anything.

Waving goodbye, I decided to jog to school.

##

Enhanced endurance was great. By the time I reached Winslow I was barely breathing hard and I beat the bus. I planned to be seen jogging more to help sell my changes as natural.

Arriving at Winslow, everything looked normal. It was only when I got within fifty yards or so of the grounds that I realised something was wrong. Walking forwards, I felt resistance, like something was pushing back against me. It was like trying to walk through treacle, it wasn’t actively stopping me but it felt almost like it was examining me.

Pushing past it, I turned and looked back. I couldn't see anything but I could faintly smell magic in the air around me. One of Dad’s books mentioned wards, protective spells that could be bound to an area. Had I just walked through one?

I suppose it made sense for a school to be protected. But who set it up?

Turning back towards school, I gasped as I saw Winslow from inside the ward.

I’d expected Winslow to be like the mall. A mass of people in one place, there emotions boiling over as they rushed about their lives. Given it was a school full of teenagers, I’d half expected lust and confusion to be the most prominent emotions.

Instead, a dark cloud hung over the school. It felt like anger, rage and depression, all caught in a roiling sea of hate. Around me, the smog wrapped around the other students, feeding on them and growing darker even as I watched.

Its hold seemed to vary from one student to the other. Some were barely touched, but others were so consumed by it that they were lost in clouds of their own darkness.  

And beneath it all was a building tension. An anticipation of something big.

Gritting my teeth, I pushed forwards. Had Winslow always looked like this, or was it a recent thing? I needed to ask Dad about this later.

Somehow, things were even worse inside.

The smog had seeped into the very walls, saturating them and radiating out into the students.

If I forced myself not to pay attention to it, it faded from my sight. But I could still feel it brushing up against my skin, trying to find purchase. More than that, I could taste and smell it.  

I considered stopping by my locker but I didn’t want to risk any more of my stuff going missing. Besides, even with all my books in it, my bag felt almost weightless to me now.

The prickling on my skin kept me distracted while I walked to my first class. So much so, that I almost walked right passed Sophia without even noticing her.

A foot shot out to trip me up and I barely managed to stay standing. Sophia laughed but didn’t say anything, and when I turned to look at her I almost threw up.

The dark cloud poured out of her eyes and mouth, and her emotions were a tangled mess that I could barely make sense of. Even as she opened her mouth to say something, I saw the cloud reaching out and thickening on the people nearest to her.

Not wanting to see anymore, I turned and walked away.

There was a burst of anger behind me and stepped aside just in time to avoid Sophia grabbing my arm.

“Don’t get cocky, bitch,” she hissed at me. “You think a little bit of tissue will change anything?”

Out the corner of my eye, I could see a teacher approaching. I didn’t expect him to help, but Sophia wouldn’t pull something in front of him.

Throwing me a dirty look, she walked away. “This isn’t over, Hebert.”

##

It got easier to ignore the darkness as the day went on, but I was determined to ask Dad about it when I got home.

Still, things soon slipped back into routine. The teachers rarely making an effort, students walking around with gang tags or colours on display. At one point, I spotted one boy showing off his new knife.

Like most schools, Winslow had been fitted with metal detectors at the entrances. But barely a week later, somebody broke into the school at night and smashed them up. After the third such occurrence, the school simply stopped bothering with ordering replacements.

The only positive difference was the occasional glance I got from some of my classmates when they noticed my ‘growth’. I even overheard one of the football players mentioning me, which would have been nice, if he wasn’t well known as an Empire recruiter.

Unfortunately, Sophia must have spoken to Emma. There was a short break between my first and second classes, intended to give students time to get to their lockers, and Emma chose then to make a move.

She and a group of her friends surrounded me. I nearly choked on the thick cloud hanging over them.

“Did you see her?” Emma asked, starting things off.

Her friends picked up the conversation and ran with it, their voices blending together as they ‘whispered’ about me, snickering all the while.

“Yeah, who does she think she’s kidding?”

“What do you think, chicken fillets or tissue?”

“Does it matter?”

“She’s just desperate. Mandy saw her hanging out on 23rd street, and you _know_ what goes on down there.”

Rolling my eyes, I tuned them out and kept walking. I had to concentrate on blocking out the spite they were radiating. There was one downside to empathy.

Realising she wasn’t getting to me, Emma changed tactics. “Aww, what’s the matter, Taylor? Can’t find your book? Maybe you should spend less time crying about your mom.”

My temper flared, despite myself. How _dare_ she use that against me! Losing Mom had torn me apart, and the only thing that had held me together had been Emma. This wasn’t the first time she’d used Mom's death to hurt me, but it still hurt.

Focusing on her, I ignored the grief and desperation she was radiating. I considered just grabbing her by the throat and pounding her face in, I was strong enough now that none of her friends would be able to stop me.

I could feel my body wanting to respond, to shift back and drive my claws into her chest.

I forced the impulse down but something must have shown on my face as Emma took a step back. Using the distraction, I pushed my way free, ‘accidentally’ bumping Emma with my shoulder as I passed.

##

 By lunchtime, I was finally calming down. I knew I had a bit of a temper but even for me, I was unusually angry.

Not wanting to risk the lunch hall, I made my way to a girls toilets on the far side of the school. I  locked myself in a stall and relaxed. Immediately, my body shifted back to its real form. There was a dull ache, like a tense muscle finally loosened, but it faded quickly.  I knew I was taking a risk but I needed to be _myself_ for a few minutes.

Putting the lid down, I sat on the toilet and cracked open my lunch. It was just sandwiches, cheap, simple and filling. The problem was, after spending all morning shapeshifted, my body wanted more than that.

Originally, I’d thought I could passively feed while at school, but that ‘smog’ had unnerved me. I couldn’t describe it, not really. It just felt _wrong_. I could still feel it, moving across my skin, looking for a way in, and I didn’t dare risk opening myself to it by feeding.   

I wasn’t at any risk of losing my powers just yet. From what Dad had said, that would take days. So, for now, my sandwiches would have to do. Maybe I could try feeding on the bus, or I could stop by the boardwalk on the way home.  

I was just finishing my lunch when I heard footsteps outside my stall, followed by Sophia's voice.

“I think she’s in here.”

Panicking slightly, I tried to shift back into my disguise. I didn’t like the idea of being trapped but I couldn’t risk them seeing me like this.  

Without even thinking about it, I wrapped my wings around me and shifted just as someone banged on the stall door.

“O-Occupied!” That... wasn’t _my_ voice. Looking down, I saw my clothes had shifted into a lightly coloured top that exposed far too much cleavage. My skin was a rich mocha brown, and as I stood up, I realised I was shorter, too. Even my bag had changed, looking a lot more expensive than anything I actually owned.

 _I can use this,_ I thought. Smiling, and trying to act more confident than I felt, I flushed the toilet, picked up my bag and opened the door. Sophia, Emma and Madison stared at me.

“What?” I said, grateful that my power brought with it some instinctual acting skills.

“Sorry, we were looking for someone,” Emma said. “Have you seen Taylor Hebert?”

“Who?” I asked, trying to looked puzzled.

“Tall skinny bitch, dark hair, wears glasses?” Sophia said.

“Oh, her. I think she went to the roof,” I said with my borrowed voice.

Sophia snorted. “Maybe she’ll do us a favour and jump? Come on, let’s go find her.”  

“You two go ahead, I’ll catch up,” Madison said.

While they were talking, I walked over to the sink and washed my hands. A glance in the mirror showed a pretty young girl dressed in rather trashy clothes with a dyed blonde streak in her hair.

She looked vaguely familiar. Maybe someone I saw at the mall?

In the mirror, I could see Madison giving me an odd look. I could taste her confusion, laced with more than a little arousal. I also noticed that we were now about the same height.

“Y’know,” Madison said, almost making me jump. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you around before.”

I shrugged. “Don’t come that often,” I said, a touch sullen.

“That’s a pity,” Madison said with a salacious grin. “If you ever want to change that, give me a call?”

She pulled a pen and some paper out of her bag and wrote a number down, tucking it into my bag with a wink. It was only then that I realised just what she had said.

I could feel myself blushing. Madison of all people was hitting on me? I knew she liked to play up on her ‘cuteness’ to get away with stuff at school but there were rumours about her.

That even I knew them showed just how widespread they were.

“Erm… Thanks?” Wanting to get away as quickly as possible, I grabbed my bag and almost ran from the bathroom.

Walking down the hall, my current appearance was attracting way too much attention. Several boys in Empire colours gave me dangerous looks, anger, hate, and even some lust radiating off them. I needed to change back quickly.

Ducking into a different toilet, I used one of the stalls to shift back to my disguised form.  

As I changed back, I thought about Madison.

She followed Emma and Sophia around like a puppy, always happy to join in whenever they started bullying someone. I wasn’t the only target after all, just their favorite. Thing was, if the other two weren't around, Madison wouldn’t do anything.

The biggest rumor about her was that she was some kind of nymphomaniac. That she would sleep with anyone who asked. As far as I knew, no one had ever actually tried to test that. Or if they did, they kept quiet about it.

I _actually_ considered taking her up on her offer. Maybe I could arrange a date or something and stand her up? Or tell everyone she was dating a kid? I wasn’t sure how old the girl I’d copied had been, but her face looked younger than mine.

That brought all kinds of amusing images to mind. I could copy Emma’s appearance and go streaking through the halls or get a cheap camera and post nude pictures of her or Sophia online.  

Shame I couldn’t clone myself. Emma and Sophia were close enough that pictures of them ‘together’ would circulate like wildfire.  

Even as I came up with more elaborate forms of revenge, I knew I wouldn’t do it. Sure, it would be easy, but it meant dropping to their level, being just as cruel and twisted as they were, and I refused to go there.

The tingling of the darkness on my skin eased. I had gotten so used to it, I hadn’t noticed it getting stronger, and it was only its sudden absence that caught my attention. Shuddering, I made my way to my next class.

Maybe I should ask Dad about getting a cellphone? I’d be able to ask him about things like this quicker.

##

The final lesson of the day was world issues, with Mr. Gladly. I couldn’t stand him.

He acted like the popular kids at school. Or at least, that’s what he probably thought. In truth, he acted more like someone who _wanted_ to be popular but never quite managed it. He was short, with a young face, and often insisted the students call him ‘Mr. G’.

If he knew what they actually called him when he wasn’t around, he’d be much less ingratiating.

He liked to assign group work or class discussion and turned a blind eye to what most of the students, especially the popular ones, got up to.

This meant Madison and some of Emma’s friends, who were also in my class, were free to take shots at me.

It was also here that I discovered a downside to my altered appearance.

As per usual, Mr. Gladly had given us a group project and split us into pairs. Also as usual, he allowed us to pick our own partners, and everyone paired up, leaving me with Greg.

Greg was one of the few people who spoke to me without malice after Emma’s betrayal, but I wouldn’t call him a friend. Maybe I was being too harsh, but he always struck me as creepy. He had no sense of personal space, and never stopped to think before he said something stupid.

Emma and her friends liked to call him a stalker, something even I’d joked about to myself.

Unfortunately, he was one of the few people who paid me enough attention to really notice my changes. I knew he’d noticed because he was currently, and rather blatantly, staring at my chest.

I cleared my throat to get his attention and gave him a warning look. With a blush, he turned back to his work. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Emma and one of her friends laughing at me.

It would have been easier to ignore him if I couldn’t literally taste his emotions.

Taking a deep breath, Greg tried to talk to me.

“So… Taylor… anything happen during the holidays?” he asked, his eyes dropping down then back up. It was almost comical. There was barely anything there, especially compared to my real size. But he wouldn’t stop staring.

 _You’re as subtle as a brick, Greg. I wonder what he’d do if he ever saw the real me._ On second thought, I could imagine it all too easily. _Ugh._

“No, not really,” I said neutrally. It was like watching a car crash in slow motion. I could see where this was going, and yet, I couldn’t think of anything to do that would stop it.

“Oh… Well… you look good? Did you get a new jumper?” Even he flinched at that one.

Clearing his throat, he tried again. “I-I mean, do you wanna hang out after school sometime?”

 _And there it is._ Outwardly, I sighed. “I’m sorry, Greg, but… no.” I was trying to be gentle, I really was.

"C-come on! It'll be fun. Oh! I saw on the net, a new arcade opened up on the docks, a few weeks back. We could go. Uh, you know, together."

A new arcade? There hadn’t been any new stores built down there in years. In fact, the only arcade down there at all was that dingy place with all those naked pictures of girls on the… oh. Oh god. Was he talking about the _b_ _rothel_?

I’d overhead Dad and his friends complaining about it one night. It was made up to look like an arcade from the outside but hidden behind the doors was an ABB whore house.

I groaned quietly. “Greg, please tell me you've never actually been in _there_! That is _not_ an arcade.”

Someone at a nearby table giggled. Had someone heard that, somehow? Over all the other noise? I hoped not.

“What’s the matter, Hebert?” a girl’s voice said from behind me, accompanied by more giggles. “Lover’s quarrel?”

“What’s it to you?” Greg demanded, sliding closer to me and trying to put his arm around my shoulders.

“Greg, shut up,” I snapped, shrugging his arm off and fixing him with a glare.

In an uncharacteristic moment of wisdom, Greg took the hint and moved away from me, though he didn’t stop casting glances at my breasts. Eventually, I brought my foot down on his and he learned to focus on his work.

There were a few more giggles and some whispered comments as the class continued, but I made a show of ignoring them.

When the bell finally rang, I threw my books into my bag and stormed out of the classroom.

Greg was nearly running to keep up with me. “Taylor! Taylor wait!”

Stopping, I turned to glare at him, “ _What?_ ”

He flinched like a kicked puppy.

“Look, I’m sorry. I just… I just thought it would be nice to spend some time together.”

Stepping closer, he tried to put his arm around my waist. Instead, I felt his hand brush across my ass.   

At that point, I was officially done. I didn't want to be a bitch, but it had been a weird day and I’d finally had enough.  

Growling, I pushed Greg away from me and into the wall.

“Don’t fucking touch me,” I warned. I could feel the same impulse to shift and gut the idiot but this time it was even stronger. The itching on my skin was starting to feel like needles. I had to get out of here before I did something I’d probably regret.

Turning, I pushed my way through the throng of students, my focus split between keeping my form intact and getting home.

I was so pissed, I didn’t even consider the bus. Instead, once I was out of the building I angled in the direction of my neighbourhood and kept walking.

I was going to get home, have a nice long bath, look into a way out of Winslow and possibly start dinner. And then, when Dad got home, I’d ask about that weird smog, because whatever it was, it couldn't be—

Stepping over the wardline, I felt something snap and a shudder ran through my body. Looking back at the school, I shrugged it off. I’d have to ask Dad about wards. Maybe they were reacting to me because I was a succubus?

Either way, get home, have a bath and look for a way out of Winslow.  

Today had not been a good day.


	6. Interlude 1: The Summoning.

Greg huffed as he watched Taylor storm off, not sure what he’d said wrong.  
  
It always worked on TV. Say something nice, ask her out and make sure there’s plenty of physical contact. If the girl says no, she’s just playing hard to get. If all goes well, you move on to the kissing.  
  
He’d thought Taylor liked him. She always worked with him in class, and they had plenty in common; they’d both been bullied, for one thing.  
  
_Why do girls get so bitchy the moment they grow boobs?_ Huffing again, he walked down the corridor, his eyes occasionally flicking across the different students. _It’s not like they’re_ that _big anyway._  
  
At this point, he was almost considering giving up on girls altogether… well, human girls, at least.  
  
Pulling open his locker, he grabbed the book he’d left there. “The Grimoire of Terryn” was a family heirloom and, if he was being honest, it was a little hard to understand.  
  
He’d found it in the attic months ago and had been trying to work his way through it. Luckily, the previous owners had added notes and annotations throughout the book that made it easier to understand. He’d even tried a few spells but they only seemed to work when he was holding the book.  
  
Currently, he was thinking about the section towards the back. Summoning rituals.  
  
He wasn’t entirely sure of the details, but apparently he could summon a demon and make it obey him. The description in the book spoke of a winged woman with words like ‘bountiful’ and ‘wanton’.  
  
Someone else must have tried it as there was even a photograph. It was old, brittle and yellowed with age. The details had faded in places but he could still make out some details. There were dark shapes behind her which he assumed were wings, and the details of her face were blurry so he couldn’t make them out, but she clearly wore very little clothing.  
  
He wasn’t stupid, he knew what a succubus was. A sex demon that fed on human souls… If the picture’s he’d seen online were anything to go by, they were hot as hell. Maybe he should try it?  
  
The same online search also warned that a summoned succubus would demand payment. What exactly was demanded was a point of disagreement. Some sources said they wanted the caster’s life, others simply said ‘life force’ or ‘vital essence’.  
  
According to the book, it was “the vital essence of the conjurer, leaving them in a ‘fugue like state’ for a time.” So long as the caster did not attempt the spell multiple times in quick succession they would be fine.  
  
If he was reading it right, then it would just leave him tired for a few days. But wasn’t sex supposed to be tiring anyway?  
  
That didn’t sound too bad.  
  
Running his fingers across one of the simpler spells, he smiled as it glowed faintly.  
  
“Hey! Is that magic?” an excited voice said, nearly scaring him out of his skin.  
  
He shoved the book into his locker and slammed it shut as he spun around to see Madison standing there.  
  
She smirked at his panicked look. “Oh, don’t look so worried, I’m not going to tell anyone. So, was that magic?” She smiled sweetly and several important parts of his brain started shorting out.  
  
Leaning back against his locker, Greg’s shoulders slumped in defeat. “Y-yeah, it was...” he mumbled.  
  
Madison’s smile brightened “I knew it! Can you show me? I’ve always wanted to see real magic but I just don’t have the talent for it.”  
  
She stepped closer, the smell of her shampoo filled Greg's nose. Madison was a bit shorter than him and her top was loose enough that he could almost look straight down it.  
  
“I-I suppose, but I can’t really do anything in school.” He jerked his eyes back up to her face but she shot him a knowing smirk.  
  
“What about later? I heard what happened between you and Taylor. Maybe I can give you some advice and you can show me some magic?” She almost sounded genuine.  
  
Thinking about Taylor reminded him of his earlier plans. While he was eager for any help he could get, he wasn’t stupid enough to trust anything Madison told him.  
  
But maybe she could help help him, his book said he could offset the cost of a summoning by using the ‘vital essence’ of another. It even said the donor would be unharmed.  
  
“S-sure,” he said. “Do you know the old glass factory? If you meet me there in an hour I can show you something really special.” He tried to give her a suggestive look, but she just giggled.  
  
“Yeah, I know it. I’ll see you there.” Still smiling she walked away, adding more than a little sway to her hips as she walked.  
  
Realising he was staring, Greg shook himself and quickly grabbed his stuff.  
  
The glass factory wasn’t far from school and he’d been using it for his experiments so he already had his robe and some chalk there.  
  
But he’d need to hurry if he wanted to get everything set up.

##

Just over an hour later, Madison ducked through a hole in the fence outside the factory.  
  
Her curiosity had always been a problem, one of her biggest if she was honest. She’d seen Greg hanging around here a few times in the past and she’d _really_ wanted to know what he was doing.  
  
That he was trying to do magic just made things more interesting.  
  
She’d tried it herself in the past. Some online searches had turned up and few simple spells but despite her own talent, she’d been unable to cast them.  
  
Her ‘talent’ was what she’d taken to calling her ability to tell if the people near her could use magic, even if she herself couldn’t. The really odd thing was that Greg didn’t have magic. She could feel it lingering around him, but it was more like he’d been exposed to it and it had stuck.  
  
Spotting him messing with that book had answered that question. Greg had an artefact, an old magical item that was powerful enough to make up for his lack of inherent power.  
  
Those were supposed to be really rare. So of course, she wanted to know where he got it and what it could do.  
  
See, she told herself. There’s that curiosity again.  
  
Greg wasn’t the only magic user in school. Taylor had practically reeked of it when she came back from the holidays. Madison had recognised her in the bathroom, of course. And hanging out with shapeshifter could be all _kinds_ of fun.  
  
Shame Emma had scared her off.  
  
Finding a door that wasn’t boarded up, Madison gave it a gentle push. The door moved stiffly inwards and she quickly checked her pepper spray.  
  
She wasn’t stupid. Meeting a boy in an abandoned factory after dark had all the halmarks of a bad idea. Throwing magic into the mix only made it sound more like a horror story.  
  
She wasn’t too worried about Greg trying anything. He obviously wanted to screw her, but he was far too timid to actually try anything. If she walked in there without a stitch of clothing on he’d probably faint.  
  
_That might be fun to try sometime…_ She shook her head to clear the thought and reminded herself that ‘fun’ wasn’t always sensible. That was her other biggest flaw, the constant haze of lust that hung around her.  
  
She couldn’t help it, her brain was genuinely wired wrong. Her sense of empathy was dodgy at best and she spent most of her time just trying not to slip into a rampant nymphomaniacal frenzy.  
  
She took a moment to get herself under control before she went up stairs. She could hear someone moving about; she assumed it was Greg.  
  
The second floor had been the head office. But most of the furniture had been reclaimed or stolen long ago, and now it was just a large empty space.  
  
Greg was in the middle of the room, shuffling around in what looked like a big brown hooded bathrobe and muttering, while the floor beneath him was covered by a complex design of swirls and writing that glowed faintly.  
  
She’d never really studied runes but some of the symbols looked familiar.  
  
In the middle of it all was a large triangle with a circle in the middle and one at each point. Runes lined everything, and there was another line in the central circle that spiraled inwards.  
  
She decided not to tell him how silly he looked. His ‘robe’ was far too big for him and made him look more like a failed monk or a bad Dungeons and Dragons roleplayer.  
  
Greg was just putting the finishing touches on one of the outer rings when he noticed her.  
  
“Oh! You’re here!” He shifted nervously and waved at the designs. “Just—just give me a minute to finish up.” He was clutching the book tightly to his chest with his free hand.  
  
Moving closer she could see the odd smudge here and there where Greg’s ‘robe’ was dragging on the floor.  
  
“Okay, I give. What’s this meant to be?” she asked.  
  
“I-it’s a summoning ritual,” Greg said breathlessly. “We stand in the outer circles and the spirit should appear in the middle.”  
  
That sounded impressive. If Greg could pull it off she’d have to do something nice for him.  
  
His explanations about the hows and whys of everything lost her a bit but she was able to grasp the basics. When he directed to her to a circle she stepped inside and watched him take up position in the one opposite.  
  
Gripping his book tightly, Greg placed a hand on floor and the runes slowly lit up. Starting at his feet and spreading outwards, the Rune started to glow. The soft pulse of magic she’d been experiencing since arriving rapidly grew.  
  
A pleasant warmth moved through her body and her core clenched as it pooled between her legs. Whatever else Greg was trying to do, this felt great.  
  
She was so lost in the feeling she almost missed what Greg was saying. He’d been muttering nonsense since the spell had started but the word ‘virgin’ caught her attention.  
  
Before she could ask what he meant, the circle around her feet burst into life and she felt invisible walls pushing against her.  
  
“Greg? Greg, what are you doing?!” she shouted. Energy was arcing across the floor and the air crackled.  
  
The warmth between her legs changed, and a sharp, red-hot stabbing pain tore through her body.  
  
Screaming, she fell forwards, only to be held up by those same invisible walls. looking down, she could see blood pooling on the floor.  
  
The pain was incredible, spreading through her body like a fire. Like thousands of tiny knives, slowly cutting her open from the inside.  
  
The walls shifted outwards and she fell forward to her knees. Even through the pain, she could feel something shifting under her skin. It crawled up her arms and onto her back.  
  
Her skin bulged as something tried to force its way out. She screamed again as her skin gave way and a smokey black wing tore itself free. In the back of her mind, she could hear another voice screaming alongside her own.  
  
Looking up, she saw Greg flicking through his spell book. His face was a picture of panic as he frantically turned page after page.  
  
Around her, the runes were failing, burning themselves into the floor and leaving black smokey trails in the air.  
  
Desperate, screaming for help, Madison crawled forward. Every movement was agony and she’d barely gone a few inches before she was forced to stop. Blood poured out of her mouth.  
  
There was so much blood. On the floor, on her. Despite her panicked state, she knew she was dying.  
  
Watching on in horror, Greg threw his book down and ran even as she screamed after him.  
  
She screamed until her throat was raw, until the pain was replaced with a cold sense of numbness and darkness took her.  
  
Greg never came back.

##

It was sunlight that woke her up.  
  
Her body ached to the bone and every movement sent ripples of agony up her nerves and set her body to twitching. The floor under her was cold and clammy, and the air smelled of copper.  
  
_Not copper,_ a distant part of her mind supplied. _Blood. Why can I smell blood?_  
  
Forcing her eyes open, she saw the scarlet pool she was laying on. The floor around her was covered in slick, semi-dried blood.  
  
Her clothes were ruined/ Her mom was going to kill her. _Mother? I have not seen her in centuries._  
  
Turning her head, she could see the sunlight through the windows and she could hear the noises of the city wafting through the broken panes.  
  
_I do not recognise this place. What has transpired? Did I challenge she-who-skitters to a drinking contest once more?_ That was one mistake she had sworn she would never repeat.  
  
The pain was swiftly fading, leaving only memories. Taking a deep breath, she tried to stand up. Dark wispy hair fell in front of her face. She moved to brush it away, but paused when a black hand came into view.  
  
Gasping, she clambered into a sitting position so she could look at herself. Her body was jet black, looking almost like smoke that had been pressed together in the shape of a body.  
  
_What has happened to me?!_  
  
She shook her arm. It left a faint trail of smoke that dispersed quickly.  
  
Trying not to panic, she forced herself to her feet.  
  
Staggering slightly, she used the walls to support her as she moved. Everything felt wrong. Nothing was moving right. She should be taller/shorter? Should there be more/less weight on her chest?  
  
Shaking her head, she focused on moving. This was an office. They’d have bathrooms, with mirrors.  
  
Stumbling down the corridors, she eventually found what she was looking for.  
  
Pushing against the door, it swung inward so hard it crashed into the wall, the handle leaving cracks in the tiles.  
  
In the broken remains of the mirrors, she finally got a good look at herself.  
  
She almost looked like a shadow come to life. Details on her clothes and body were visible as lighter/darker shades depending own the light hit her. The only exception were her eyes.  
  
Glowing bright yellow, there were no pupils or other details Just the same glow from one side to the other.  
  
Screaming, she stumbled backwards from the mirror until she hit the wall. Even her voice was different. It sounded like two people speaking at once, one a grown woman, the other a teenager.  
  
Staring at her cracked reflection, the memories came rushing back.  
  
Living with her mom and dad.

Living with her sisters.

Learning to control her condition as she grew.

Learning to control her powers and her hunger as she grew.

  
Answering questions in class.

Answering the call when she was summoned.

  
Following Greg into the building.

Following the pull once more.

The summoning.

The summoning.

Greg.

Greg.

Greg!

“GREG!!” her dual voices screamed.


	7. 2-1

Getting home that night, I closed the back door behind me and rested against it, exhausted from the day. My anger at Greg and the school had burnt itself out on the way home, leaving me drained.  
  
The feeling of relief that flowed through me as I switched forms was almost heavenly. Holding a different form wasn’t exactly painful, it was more like… keeping a muscle tensed for hours at a time. After a while, it started to ache, and the greater the difference in appearance, the harder it got.  
  
I really hoped it got easier over time. Changing back briefly at lunch had helped—run-in with Emma notwithstanding—but right now my entire body was filled with a dull ache.  
  
It hadn’t helped that I was so _hungry_. Barely halfway home, I’d been forced to get a bus, just so I could feed on the passenger's emotions. It was enough to tie me over, but why hadn’t I fed at school?  
  
Eventually, I moved to the bathroom where I turned on the taps before dragging myself upstairs. I dumped my bag, grabbed a change of clothes and made my way back down stairs. By that time, the bath was filling steadily and steam was starting to fill the air.  
  
Just as the bath was nearly full I shut the taps off, pulled my clothes off and slipped into the water. Thankfully, my new resistance to heat meant I could have the bath almost boiling hot.  
  
Closing my eyes, I let the heat work its way inwards, slowing easing my muscles.  
  
Looking back on it, today could have gone much worse. I didn’t know why Emma and the others had been looking for me, but I doubt it was to apologise.  
  
_Speaking of apologies..._ I sighed. I probably owed Greg one. I had been a bit of a bitch to him and he was only trying to be nice. Even if he had gone about it the wrong way. _Or would that just encourage him?_  
  
I really wished I had someone to talk to about this stuff. I couldn't really talk to Dad about it, he’d probably freak if I so much as mentioned a boy liking me. Maybe I could talk to Lacey? She and her husband worked at the docks with Dad and had been close friends with Mom.  
  
_I wonder if she knew what Mom really was?_  
  
Splashing water in my face, I put the thought aside and relaxed, leaving my mind to wander.  
  
The image of Madison came to mind and I frowned. I’d never heard any mention of her liking girls, rumors like that tended to spread quickly. Mostly, people just said that she’d sleep with anyone who offered. At least one ex-boyfriend had accused her of cheating on him.  
  
But then, she wasn’t attracted to me, per say, but the body I had been wearing at the time. I looked down at myself, or at least, what I could see. _Huh, they float. Never noticed that._ Concentrating, I tried to copy the disguise I’d taken. My body protested a bit but my skin started to darken. I lost nearly a foot in height and my breasts shrunk from ‘huge’ to simply ‘impressive’.  
  
Sitting up in the bath, I looked at myself in the nearby mirror. Whoever this girl was, she was very pretty. I was fairly sure she was younger than me, with high cheekbones, a long neck, impressive assets and a blonde streak in her hair.  
  
Thinking back on what my clothes had become, my face scrunched up with distaste. It was almost upsetting to see someone so beautiful dressing in such a trashy way.  
  
I slipped back into the water. I wonder what the chances of seeing her again were?  
  
Examining her body, I started to feel a familiar warmth and bit my lip in indecision. It’s not like anyone would know and it was still my body, no matter how it looked. One of my hands started to slowly trail down my stomach, gently caressing my skin and leaving trails of warmth.  
  
Besides, it was perfectly natural. Anyone would be curious and it was practically expected of people my age.  
  
My other hand brushed the underside of my breast—  
  
“Hello?” Dad called out as he came through the back door. “Taylor, you home?”  
  
With a started yelp, I slipped under the water, inhaling some of it and choking.  
  
“Taylor, you okay?” Dad said as he knocked on the bathroom door.  
  
“Yeah Dad, I’m fine,” I called back between coughs. “I’m just having a bath.” _Woah, that’s weird_. I was still wearing the other girls face, but my voice sounded like my own. I could have some fun with that later.  
  
“Alright, I’ll get started on dinner.”  
  
As I heard dad pottering around in the kitchen, I reverted back to my normal body. God that was embarrassing. At least he hadn’t walked in on me. He’d only ever made that mistake once, but it had been a harrowing experience.  
  
Sighing, I decided to just finish my bath.

 

##

  
By the time I’d got out of the bath and dried off, dinner was almost ready.  
  
Feeling mostly relaxed, I sat down at the table. There were still things I needed to ask Dad about.  
  
“Dad, do you know anything about magical wards?”  
  
“Not much,” Dad said as he poured himself a glass of water. “Why?”  
  
“I think there’s one around the school. I felt it pushing against me this morning.”  
  
Putting a glass on the table for me, he sat down with a thoughtful look on his face. “That… makes sense I suppose. Winslow is pretty old, so it’s possible they put wards up to protect the kids.”  
  
“Would all schools have them? Do you know why it was hard for me to walk through it?”  
  
“Hmm, I’m not sure, the older schools would almost certainly have them. Wards were never really my thing. I could try asking around if you’d like? I still have some friends that might be able to find a book or something about wards.”  
  
Well, if it’s not trying to hurt me, I guess it doesn’t matter too much. “Do you know how they are created?”  
  
“They’re not too different to spells. You carve the runes onto a stone, usually at the centre of the ward, and charge it with magic. Depending on where the stone is placed and what the ward is supposed to do, you might be able to power it just with ambient magic energy.”  
  
Dad continued his lecture as we ate but he wasn’t able to tell me more than the basics. The ward at school was probably set up to keep monsters—the very real, nightmare inducing kind—out, and as a succubus I was inhuman enough that the ward didn’t know how to deal with me.  
  
One thing he did mention was that wards were basically just written spells. You could make them do almost anything a normal spell could do.  
  
For example, the stun grenade idea I’d had could be linked to a ward rune. In effect, it would create a ‘stun mine’ of sorts. There was lots of potential there.

 

##

  
A few hours later, I was sitting in the garden thinking. Dad was in his room, going over what I’d told him. After dinner, I’d decided to try the subject I’d been dreading.  
  
I’d told Dad about the bullying.  
  
I'd started slowly, pausing occasionally to gather my thoughts. I’d told him everything. I hadn’t meant to, I’d wanted to soften things a bit, hide some of the details so he wouldn’t blame himself. But once I started, I just couldn’t stop. Soon the words were tumbling from my mouth.  
  
The name calling, the attacks—on me, my homework—the isolation, Emma finding the book. I told him everything. At some point, Dad moved to my side and wrapped his arms around me as I talked, telling me it was okay. He even glossed over the subject of the book. I think he suspected that I was... that I liked girls. But he didn't pry.  
  
I may have cried at one point.  
  
When I’d finally calmed down, he was still holding on to me. He was trying to keep himself calm but I could feel him trembling, I could taste the rage and the guilt rolling off of him.  
  
After that, Dad poured himself a glass of whiskey and the discussion went about as well as I thought it would.  
  
Dad wanted to go straight to Emma's and talk to her father. Some threats may have been mentioned.  
  
In the end, I convinced him not to. Causing a fuss wouldn't help. It was just my word against hers and she had more people on her side.  
  
No, that wouldn't work. It was simply better if Dad just put in the paper work for an Arcadia transfer. I'd suggested homeschooling but it turns out that was more expensive than people realised.  
  
For now, I'd just have to put up with Winslow. It would take time but I would get out of there, one way or the other.  
  
Pushing the thoughts of school away, I decided to try out something else I'd been thinking about.  
  
Flying!  
  
I had wings after all, so shouldn’t I be able to fly?  
  
My wings were a little odd. They seemed to change size depending on what I was doing. Walking around the house, they shrank down to maybe half a meter from my back to tip. But if I tried to wrap them around my body like a cloak, they would grow large enough to just reach the floor.  
  
At that thought, they stretched out to what I thought of as their full length. Each one was nearly as long as I was tall. Leaning forward slightly, I pushed them downwards.  
  
I let out a small squeak as the force pushed my feet just of ground enough to know me off balance.  
  
Catching myself, I tried again. This time, I tried to flap my wings but the air pressing against them on the upstroke simply pushed me back down and the movement caused me to stagger.  
  
Dad chuckled from his position by the back door. Sticking my tongue out, I turned my back to him and tried again.  
  
I know I could have simply asked him for help, but I wanted to do this on my own.

 

##

  
After another twenty minutes, all I had managed to do was make my shoulders ache.  
  
Shrinking my wings down, I sat on the grass to catch my breath. Maybe I needed a running start? If so, I’d never manage that here. Maybe I could jump off the roof? I knew I was physically tougher than a normal human, so the fall probably wouldn’t hurt me if it didn’t work.  
  
Walking over to me, Dad held out his glass. It was filled with whiskey. I could smell it.  
  
He chuckled quietly at my puzzled look. “Don’t worry you’re different enough to normal humans that alcohol won’t affect you.”  
  
After our discussion earlier, the anger and guilt had been rolling off him. That’s why I’d gone outside. The taste of his emotions had been overwhelming. I knew he wasn’t angry at me, but it was still like sharing a room with a dozen heavy smokers.  
  
That being outside made it easier to ignore the guilt he was feeling was also a bonus. I’d never told him about the bullying because I didn’t want to worry him. But now that he knew, he was obviously blaming himself.  
  
I suppose this was us trying to move past it.  
  
Taking the glass, I hesitated at the smell, then threw the drink back like I’d seen other people do.  
  
The taste was horrible and it burned the whole way down. Dad chuckled as I coughed and spluttered.  
  
“Drink slowly, and breathe through your nose,” he advised as he sat down next to me. This time he held out a bottle of soda.  
  
Taking it, I down half of it just to clear the taste. “If alcohol doesn’t affect me, what does?”  
  
“Tea,” this time, he laughed at my expression of horror. It was a little forced, but at least he was trying. “Well, it does, but not like alcohol. Tea is a very mild relaxant to you.”  
  
“Doesn’t it do that to everyone?”  
  
“Yeah, but the effect is stronger for succubi. The only thing that can really get you ‘drunk’ is crystalised magic.”  
  
“I’ve never heard of that,” I said, frowning.  
  
“You probably have, but it was probably called something different. It’s hard to make and to normal people it’s a highly addictive, not to mention illegal drug. It’s addictive to you too so make sure I never catch you using it, clear?”  
  
Not really having anything to say, I nodded. I’d never really seen the point of drugs anyway. There were enough Merchants —a gang that focused on dealing drugs— at school that I’d seen what it did to people.  
  
“As for flying, you're overthinking it. Wing size and movement plays very little part in it. Here, you should probably wear this.” He handed me a silver bracelet. The chain looked delicate and there were a few charms hanging from it. One of them looked like a set of wings.  
  
I could also smell the faint current of magic it gave off.  
  
“It was your mother's. It’s got some spells on it that will keep the casual observer from noticing you while you’re flying. But it won’t protect you against people who know you’re there, or from any reasonably proficient magic user.” Leaving me to stare at the bracelet in my hands, Dad walked back over to the house and took up position by the back door.  
  
I don’t remember ever seeing it before. But Mom had never worn much jewelry, and this looked expensive enough that she probably didn’t wear it everyday. Slipping it on, I felt a slight tug on my magic. I fed it power and felt it grow comfortably warm.  
  
I took a moment to simply enjoy the feeling before I realised what Dad had said.  
  
How was I overthinking it? Birds all flew by flapping their wings after all… But I’m not a bird. The human body wasn’t very aerodynamic, not even when you gave it wings and a tail. So did that mean it was more about magic?  
  
Closing my eyes, I let my wings relax to a ‘resting’ size and jumped as hard as I could.  
  
Immediately, my wings snapped open and I hung there in the air. I could feel my magic thrumming through me as I hovered nearly six feet in the air.  
  
Letting out a gasp, I dropped back to the ground. I was barely able to get my feet back under me before I hit the ground, much to Dad’s amusement.  
  
I made a show of turning my nose up, which only made him laugh more.  
  
Turning my back to him, I took a deep breath and tried again.  
  
This time, I focused on moving forward as I jumped and shot towards the fence.  
  
I jerked upwards just before I hit the fence, and soared out of the garden and up into the sky.  
  
As I rose, I couldn’t help but grin. The feeling was incredible, I was flying!  
  
Trying not to lose sight of the house, I twisted in the air. The movements came more naturally now, my wings and tail moving automatically.  
  
It almost felt like swimming.  
  
Circling, I rose up higher. From here, the city almost looked peaceful. You could almost forget the invisible lines that split Brockton Bay. The south side and a good slice of the eastern edge belonged to the Empire, while the north and parts of the docks belonged to the ABB. And in between them all, the Merchants scurried around, peddling drugs to everyone, willing customers or not.  
  
I wanted to do something to help but I wasn’t sure what. I had magic, I could try joining the PRT. They didn’t care if you were magic or parahuman, just so long as you were willing to help.  
  
But I wouldn’t be allowed to join the Protectorate. I was too young, I’d be moved to the Wards. Junior heros that spent more time posing for cameras than fighting. I wasn’t sure what I wanted to do, but being a pinup was certainly _not_ it. Even if I _did_ have the body for it now.  
  
Shaking the thought away, I considered what else I could do. Being a solo hero was risky, especially in Brockton Bay. Not that I even knew _how_ to fight.  
  
Maybe I should focus on that first. Learn how to fight, maybe look through some of Dad’s books and then see what my options were?  
  
Closing my wings, I let myself fall.  
  
I should have been scared, terrified that I was plummeting towards the ground. Instead, I felt only the same thrill I’d been experiencing since I’d taken off. Flying like this was like being on the world's greatest roller coaster, only there were no queues, and I could change the track on a whim.  
  
Focusing on the ground below me, I wondered how low I could get.  
  
I shook my head and snapped my wings open, pulling out of the dive and heading for home.  
  
I’d just have to see how things were tomorrow.


	8. 2-2

Jogging to school the next day, I felt much better in myself. Flying had done wonders for my mood.  
  
I’d spent a good portion of last night just flying around and while I hadn’t thought of any solutions to my problems, I at least had a starting point.  
  
First, school.  
  
Once I got to school, I had to get some paperwork from the office so I could apply for a transfer. While I had been out, Dad had spent some time fighting with our aging computer and slow connection to look up a few details.  
  
While it was mostly my word against Emma’s when it came to the bullying, I had at least tried to keep a diary of everything she’d said and done, with printouts of the emails they had sent to me.  
  
I didn’t think it was enough to get them in serious trouble, but Dad thought we could use it to get a transfer.  
  
The next issue was if whether or not I should be a hero.  
  
I hadn’t mentioned that idea to Dad. I knew he wouldn’t like it, but I couldn’t just do nothing. I’d have to think of a way to get him to teach me how to fight with magic. Maybe if I convin-  
  
I passed through the school’s ward, and the sudden resistance made me stumble. I’d been so lost in my thoughts I’d forgotten about the ward completely, but now I’d been kicked back into reality.  
  
The smog!  
  
I could see it in the distance, hanging over the school. It looked darker than it had before.  
  
How could I have forgotten about that?! I watched the dark tendrils reach down and surround the passing students, and I shivered at the memory of that darkness brushing my skin. I had to get out of here. I had to find Dad and tell him about this.  
  
If I could get out of sight, I could transform and fly to his office on the docks.  
  
Turning towards the docks, I sprinted across the ward line, then stopped.  
  
I looked around. Why was I heading towards the docks? Wow, I must have been really out of it… why was I trembling?  
  
I clenched my fists and tried to stop my hands from shaking. Why was I so spooked? Was this something to do with being a succubus? Would I suddenly start having panic attacks for no reason?  
  
Sighing, I turned back towards the school. There was no point worrying about-  
  
What. The. Fuck!  
  
The moment I crossed the ward, the memories came flooding back.  
  
This time, I stopped where I was. I wasn’t going anywhere until I knew what was happening.  
  
The ward was messing with my head, that much was clear. Every time I crossed it, I forgot about the smog and its effects. Was this intentional? I couldn’t imagine something like this happening by accident. Wards were tricky and required careful wording from what Dad said. So why would someone set up a ward to suppress memories of the smog?  
  
 _Talk about a stupid question._ Clearly, they wanted the smog to remain hidden.  
  
It was clear I couldn’t just go home and tell dad. Maybe I could call him from inside the ward? I didn’t have a cell, but there were payphones inside the school. I just had to block the smog out until I could reach them.  
  
Mentally bracing myself, I marched to the school.  
  
I could feel the smog pressing up against me, looking for a hold, but I refused to let it in.  
  
The school had a main entrance at the front and a few smaller side doors. The front entrance had a reception desk and three payphones bolted to the wall. My heart sank at the sight of them.  
  
One of the phones was missing its receiver and other had a note stuck to it saying ‘out of order’. The note was filthy and yellowing around the edges, and I doubted the school ever intended to fix it. The last phone looked okay, but I could see the smog wrapping itself around it. I cringed as I picked up the receiver.  
  
Nothing. No dial tone or payment prompt on the little screen. The line was totally dead.  
  
I can’t say I was surprised. Winslow was practically falling apart. It _had_ been a good school once, but now the building was crumbling, and the teachers couldn’t care less about what was happening around them.  
  
I wonder how much of that was plain apathy and how much was the smog? I could almost see the walls wither and age in front of me as the smoke burrowed into them.  
  
Sighing in defeat, I fetched the papers I needed from the office and walked towards my first class.  
  
As I pulled out my books, I realised that Greg was absent—though I only noticed because his seat was next to mine. Normally I’d be happy he wasn’t here, but I still felt kinda guilty about what I’d said to him.  
  
I wasn’t _interested_ in him, but I refused to be like Emma. I wouldn’t be a bitch just for the sake of it.  
  
It didn’t take long for class to start and I soon found myself slipping back into old routines as the teacher droned on. Looking at my notepad, I had an idea. Could I write a warning to myself?  
  
Taking a pen, I put it to paper and scribbled the words: ‘Remember the smog, it’s messing with your head.’  
  
At least, that’s what I tried to do. What actually happened was my hand locked up the moment the pen touched the paper. Frowning, I quickly copied down what the teacher had written on the board and tried again.  
  
Once again, the moment I tried to write about the smog, my hand stopped working. Watching, I could almost see the smog wrap itself around my hand.  
  
I didn’t think it would be that easy, but it’d been worth a try. I wasn’t sure how much longer I could stop this stuff from messing with my head.  
  
We were halfway through the class when Greg arrived, looking terrible. His hair and clothes were a mess, there were bags under his bloodshot eyes and fear rolling off him in thick, heavy waves. The taste of it turned my stomach.  
  
Stammering out apologies, he stumbled across the room, bumping into desks as he went. Falling into his seat besides me, I could see he was trembling and I could almost swear I smelt blood.   
  
“Greg… are you… okay?” I asked quietly.  
  
He jumped. “Fine!” he said, visibly trying to calm himself down. “N-never been better!” I didn’t need empathy to know he was lying. I hoped he hadn’t done something stupid, like taking drugs or something. I didn’t like Greg, but that didn’t mean I wanted to see him end up as just another Merchant.  
  
All the same, I had more important things to worry about. I put his odd behaviour out of my mind and tried to focus on the lesson—and ignoring the smog that brushed against my skin.  
  


##

  
The rest of the day continued in much the same way. I couldn’t find a way to leave a message for myself, no matter how hard I tried. Writing in code, drawing pictures; nothing worked.  
  
The only thing ‘different’ was Greg practically jumping out of his skin at every loud noise.  
  
I briefly considered asking someone else to remind me about the smog after school, but I quickly dismissed that idea. There wasn’t anyone here I trusted enough for that, assuming they didn’t also forget about everything the moment they crossed the ward line.  
  
Speaking of the ward, I even considered finding and destroying it. But if I did that, what would happen to the smog? Would it vanish harmlessly or would it spill out into the city, messing with even more people?  
  
I was still pondering that when I walked into my computer lesson. I didn’t really pay any attention to Mrs. Knott as I quickly worked my way through the exercises.  
  
With those done and sent to the teacher, I opened up my non-school email and attempted—again—to send myself a warning.  
  
I wasn’t surprised when my hands refused to move.  
  
It really was starting to look like destroying the ward would be my only option, but I didn’t want to risk that without at least knowing what was causing the smog, and I couldn’t risk searching for it until I had at least some idea how to fight with magic.  
  
Maybe I could stop by the library on the way home from school to use their internet? We had a connection at home but it was slow and the computer was almost as old as me. Okay, it wasn’t that bad, but it was still a pain.  
  
I didn’t want try looking too much up in class as I knew the connection was monitored and there were too many people who could look over my shoulder.  
  
Settling for just looking through my inbox, I was surprised to see an email from Amy. I was more than a little surprised at that. The saturday we’d spent shopping had been fun but I hadn’t actually expected her to contact me again. I felt a mix of nerves and excitement at her email.  
  
Amy was... different to the girls I was usually attracted to . They tended to be curvy and outgoing, while Amy was mousy and quiet. But somehow she made me feel the way Emma used to.  
  
Looking down at myself, I had to wonder: would Amy still be interested in me if she could see me now?  
  
Pushing those thoughts down, I skimmed through her email. Mostly it was an apology for having to rush off—apparently she worked part-time at a hospital, and there had been an emergency. But she also asked if I’d like to meet up with her tomorrow night.  
  
There was an odd fluttering in my stomach but I ignored it while I sent my reply. It would be nice to see her again. I missed having friends.  
  
The darkness around me shifted, trying to using the moment of melancholy to force its way in. I forced the smog back and put a lid on my emotions.  
  
Speaking of Emma, it dawned on me that she had been suspiciously quiet today. Glancing around the room, I realised that Madison wasn’t here either. In fact, I hadn’t seen her all day.  
  
Mentally chalking that up as a win, I spent the rest of class aimlessly browsing PHO. The lunch bell was a relief. The strain of holding my form was bordering on painful, and I needed some time to relax.  
  


##

  
As I had yesterday, I stepped into an empty stall in the girls toilet and shifted back to my real appearance and cracked open my lunch.  
  
I stopped as I remembered: Emma and Sophia used this bathroom. They’d walked in on me yesterday. This wasn’t as safe a place as I’d hoped.  
  
But... I didn’t want to spend all lunch in someone else’s body just in case they walked in, and only shifting _when_ someone walked in was risky. So I decided to find a different bathroom. I put away my lunch box, manufactured a new body—one that no-one would recognise—and left.  
  
Walking down the corridor was a little unnerving. I had to continuously remind myself I was in a different body, and I didn’t have to act like a normally did. But after I’d passed a few people, I began to find it surprisingly liberating. None of the usual whispers followed me as I walked, and the only stares I got were _admiring_. It made me feel good. Even though it wasn’t really my body they were appreciating.  
  
Then I found myself in the same hallway as Emma and Sophia. My legs froze of their own accord, but I forced myself to walk past her anyway, making sure my breathing was calm, telling myself they wouldn’t recognise me. And they didn’t. Neither of them did anything more than cast cursory glances in my direction.  
  
I suppressed the urge to fist-pump as I rounded the corner.  
  
“Did you hear what happened to Madison?” Emma asked quietly once I was out of her sight. I barely heard it.  
  
Intrigued despite myself, I moved closer to the wall so they wouldn’t notice me listening in.  
  
“No,” Sophia said with a disinterested sigh, “what did the little nympho do now?”  
  
“She was attacked on the way home,” Emma said. “I think she got jumped or something. She crawled home this morning covered in blood. Her mom wanted to know if we’d seen anything.”  
  
I saw Sophia’s shadow move, looking towards the corner where I was hiding, and I got the impression she knew I was there. Deciding not to push my luck, I hurried down the hall.  
  
So Madison had been hurt? I couldn’t really bring myself to care about her wellbeing, but even thinking that made me feel guilty. It sounded pretty bad, after all.  
  
I shook my head. Gossip is always exaggerated. She was probably fine.  
  
I ducked into a different bathroom, sat in one of the stalls, and switched back to my real appearance. Then I cracked open my lunch again and relaxed until the end of lunch.  
  


##

  
After school, I stopped by the library, hoping to find something there that would help me learn how to fight.  
  
The first thing I did was use one of their payphones to call Dad and let him know where I was. After that, I made my way into the stacks. I could also use this as a chance to feed. There were plenty of people in the building and I’d apparently forgotten to do so while at school.  
  
As I walked through between the bookshelves, I let the energy of everyone flow into me. It wasn’t as filling or pleasant as that day at the mall, but it was enough.  
  
They did have a ‘magic’ section but it was mixed with the health books and ‘new age’ junk. A quick glance at titles like ‘Magical Me’ and ‘The Ethereal Sex’ was all it took to convince me it was worthless.  
  
Finding a free computer, I sat down and opened a search engine. I tried searching for ‘magical combat.’ Most of the results were just videos of Protectorate heros like Dauntless and Myrddin. Refining the search terms helped a little, but there wasn’t a great deal of solid information.  
  
I found a few threads about something called ‘the conclave’, but all the posts seemed to contradict one another. Half the forum-goers said it was a neutral meeting place for all magic users, while the other half said it was an organisation that enforced ‘the rules of magic’—and it seemed like everybody had their own ideas of what those rules actually were.  
  
I shook my head and looked up groups of magic users, hoping to find something useful. But the only sizeable group that used magic—aside from the PRT—was Haven, a Christian hero team down south. Its members were a mix of capes and magic users, often called paladins.  
  
Reading through the available information made my skin crawl.  
  
While they supported magic users, it seemed that was only true if you practiced the ‘right kind’ of magic. One forum poster claimed Haven had attacked him and his friends for supposedly using dark magic, when all they had been doing was messing about in a graveyard on halloween.  
  
Apparently, Haven had even come to blows with members of the Protectorate more than once.  
  
I was a little worried about how they’d react to me. Succubi might’ve been demons, but we weren’t evil. I wasn’t sure they’d see things the same way.  
  
Dad had told me that the number of magic users was small and that there wasn’t any real centralisation. I could see now what he meant.  
  
It was no wonder most magic users were self-taught when there was no central organisation to help people find legitimate information.  
  
I’d found three different bookstores in the city that claimed to sell magic books, and countless ‘new age’ shops touting the healing effects of crystals when placed in a copper triangle. It was nearly impossible to separate the real magic users from the charlatans.  
  
Giving up, I glanced out the window. It was getting pretty dark now, enough that I could fly home without worrying about being spotted.  
  
I returned the few books I’d picked up and left the library. I circled back around the building, using my empathy to make sure no-one was following me, then ducked into an alleyway.. Certain I was alone, I shifted back to normal—for me, at least—and took off.  
  


##

  
Unlike last night, I stayed closer to the roof tops. I still had Mom's bracelet on and was constantly feeding it magic so no-one would pay me any attention.  
  
Flying in a straight line, I’d be home in no time. Which was why I wasn’t flying straight, despite keeping low. I changed direction whenever I felt like it, slowly zig-zagging in the direction of home. I loved this feeling.  
  
At one point, I looped back around in a lazy circle just for the hell of it.  
  
I was in the middle of a loop-de-loop when I heard the scream.  
  
Brockton Bay was not the safest city in America, people getting attacked was sadly common. Before, I’d always had to walk the other way and pretend I hadn’t heard anything, even though I hated it. But... I had powers now. I had no excuse.  
  
Cursing myself, I flew in the direction of the scream. I couldn’t use magic yet, but I was stronger than a normal person, enough to considered a low-level brute by the PRT’s standards. That had to count for something.  
  
Landing heavily on a roof, I heard a scuffle from a nearby alley. I’d be okay if I was careful. I told myself I’d just take a quick look, and if it was more than I could handle, I’d go get help.  
  
Quietly putting my bag down, I looked into the alley below. A dark figure had pinned a young girl down and was tearing at her clothes. She struggled to fight back, but he had a hand over her mouth. I could smell her blood.  
  
A regular, old rapist. I clenched my fists. I could deal with that.  
  
My heart pounded in my ears as I jumped from the rooftop, flaring my wings to control the fall.  
  
Hitting the ground, I crouched low to the ground, spreading my wings and snarling at the attacker even as my nails lengthened into claws.  
  
Letting go of the girl, he turned and growled back at me.  
  
He was not what I’d expected. From his bald head and pale skin, I’d assumed an empire thug, but the creature in front of me barely looked human.  
  
Pale waxy skin stretched tightly over his skull, and large black eyes glared at me. His jaw was misshapen, looking more like a shark’s than a man’s, his mouth filled with razor-sharp teeth. Blood ran down his face and onto his bare chest.  
  
Before I had a chance to move, he charged at me. I barely managed to throw myself sideways, narrowly dodging his own claws.  
  
It wasn’t just his face that was wrong. His body was too thin, his limbs too long to be natural. And he stank of death. No, he definitely wasn’t human.  
  
Lashing out, I drove my fist into the creature’s jaw, only to feel like I’d just punched a wall. Pain shot up my arm, distracting me long enough for his claws to rake across my face, missing my eyes by a hairs breath.  
  
I bit back a scream even as I felt blood spill onto my face.  
  
I jumped away, frantic. Thankfully, the creature had been distracted by my blood and was too busy licking it off its fingers to pay me any attention.  
  
It was hard to focus through the pain, but I knew this was too much for me. I had to get out of here before this _thing_ killed me. Trying to stand up, my eyes landed on the girl he’d already attacked.  
  
She was younger than me. Blood poured from her wounds, and she barely moved. I could taste her fear. But beneath it, I could also taste hope. She thought I could save her.  
  
And if I ran away now, she would die.  
  
Behind me, I heard the creature stir. Evidently, it had finished its meal, and was coming back for more. I turned and watched as it crept toward me slowly, waiting for me to move.  
  
Dad said it was possible to cast spells without runes. I’d never tried it, but I wasn’t sure what other options I had. Trying to keep things simple, I concentrated everything I could on a single rune, one that would create a light. I didn’t know any offensive spells, so my only hope was to distract him so I could grab the girl and flee I felt magic pool in my hand, but it was wild and unstable.  
  
But I didn’t have the time to worry about it as the creature in front of me snarled and charged at me. In desperation, I thrust my hand out, opening my fist.  
  
The spell went off like bomb in the monster's face, lighting up the alley like a small sun.  
  
Clutching at its eyes, the creature stumbled backwards, howling in pain. I didn’t give it a chance to recover as I leapt forwards, driving my fist into its side with everything I could. Something gave way with a crunch.  
  
The creature swiped at me blindly. Its claws carved shallow lines across my chest and I had to bite down another scream, but I pressed through it, pinning it under me and punching it again and again, focusing on the same spot.  
  
I tried to grab its arms with my free hand, but it pulled me forwards and sunk its teeth deep into my arm, tearing out a chunk of flesh, then drove its claws deep into my side. The force of the blow sent me rolling away, but I didn’t manage to cut off my scream.  
  
The pounding in my head compounded until I could hardly hear anything else. My vision started to turn gray. My mouth tasted like ash.  
  
Warm blood cascaded down my side, but my body felt cold.  
  
 _Am I going to die?_  
  
I hit the wall just as he charged again. My side flared in pain, but I brought my hands up to protect myself with a cry. On my back, my wings twitched, shifting and reshaping as they moved. They twisted and transformed into black, shadowy tendrils that drove themselves deep into the monster’s chest and arms.  
  
The monster continued to struggle against me, but my wing-spears stabbed deeper and deeper into its body until, finally, the creature went slack with a deep, shuddering gasp.  
  
My wings released him, shifting back to normal as suddenly as they’d transformed before. I heard sirens and shouting in the distance, and saw the girl I’d saved try to sit up.  
  
She looked at me and tried to speak, but all that came out was a croak. The sirens came closer.  
  
I staggered to my feet and spread my wings for balance.  
  
“I’ve gotta… I need…. go,” I panted, not making much sense, even to myself.  
  
I jumped and flapped, trying to get airborne. I needed to get home. I couldn't let people see me.  
  
My wing clipped the side of the building and I fell to my ground, landing on my knees. I was just so tired... but I needed to get home. Forcing back my exhaustion, I focused everything I had on that one goal. I needed to get home.. Without meaning to, I felt my magic shift, and the world around me exploded.  
  
When I opened my eyes, I was standing in my backyard. The ground around me looked strange, but I couldn’t summon the strength to think about it. I stumbled up the back steps and shoved the door open. Dad stopped putting clothes in the washing machine and turned to look at me.  
  
The last thing I saw was his horrified expression, and then the world went black.


	9. 2-3

Danny rushed forward and managed to catch Taylor before she hit the ground. Her body lay limp in his arms as blood ran from the open wounds on her face and body.  
  
“Taylor!” he shouted as he held onto her. “Taylor! C’mon kiddo, open your eyes!”  
  
Moaning faintly, Taylor shifted slightly in his arms, just about forcing her eyes open for a moment before shutting them again.  
  
 _Not Taylor! Please! Not Taylor!_ The thought circled endlessly in his mind even as he picked her up and carried her into the living room. Putting her down on the sofa, he ran down the stairs to the basement so fast he nearly fell.  
  
Throwing boxes aside, he tore through his old possessions. He knew it was there. It had to be! Tearing the final box open, he pulled out a small, white-painted, wooden box. The small first aid kit in the kitchen wouldn’t be enough. Taylor needed something more powerful.  
  
Succubi had a healing factor. Left alone, any one of the wounds on Taylor's body would heal without a mark. But there were too many and the healing wasn’t fast; there was every chance Taylor would bleed out first.  
  
Running back upstairs, he pulled it open and dug through the contents, his panic and fear rising as he did so. Most of the contents were useless; glass vials had congealed or their contents had evaporated. The magically treated bandages disintegrated in his fingers, their charge long dissipated and the fabric rotten.  
  
Tipping the last of the contents out onto the floor, a small scrap of yellowing paper floated to the floor. Snatching it up, he stared at the runes.  
  
It took him longer than it should have to realise it was a healing spell, written by Annette.  
  
Taking a breath, he quickly ran back to the kitchen and grabbed the first aid kit. He did his best to wrap Taylor's arm and side, working quickly as the blood flow was slowing down and her breathing faint.  
  
Grabbed the paper, he mentally braced himself.

Channelling magic into the spell _hurt_. Pain lanced up his arm and into his head, a stabbing sensation filled his chest and he struggled to breathe as the spell started to work.

Slowly, too slowly, the wound on Taylor's face started to close, and her breathing became stronger.  
  
All too soon, the pain became too much. His vision was starting to fade, and the colour was draining from the world. His heart felt like it was going to explode in his chest, and he was forced to cut the spell off before it could do more.  
  
 _You stupid, stupid old man,_ he cursed, even as he struggled to stay awake. He’d bought Taylor time, but if he passed out now, she’d be dead before he woke up, if he ever woke up.  
  
Still cursing himself, he staggered to his feet and stumbled into the kitchen so he could grab his keys. Moving as fast as he could, he made it to his truck and pulled the doors open.  
  
That done, he half ran, half stumbled back into the house and and picked his daughter up, fear and desperation lending him strength.  
  
Bundling her into the passenger seat of his truck, he stopped only briefly to be sick before climbing in and skidding the old vehicle off the drive and down the road. Hospitals were no good; they wouldn’t be able to help her, and even if they could, the wrong people would find out about her.  
  
 _You should have warned her,_ a traitorous voice whispered in the back of his mind, even as he jumped a set of lights.  
  
Tires screeched as he cornered hard. He’d never been more thankful that the constant cutbacks in the police department meant there was less chance of him being seen.  
  
The only magical healer he knew about was on the far side of the city and had retired years ago. That left only one other choice.  
  
Skidding to a stop, he jumped out of the truck, ran to the passenger side and grabbed Taylor. There was a worrying moment when Taylor groaned from the rough treatment, but the instant his heart started beating again, he ran for the building.  
  
He crashed shoulder first through the door, ignoring the flash of pain it caused and refusing to slow down. “I need help!” he called as he burst into reception, struggling to stay upright.  
  
The young woman behind the desk didn’t hesitate; even as she ran around the desk her hand was tapping the radio on her ear.  
  
“I need you in reception, emergency, possible Case 53,” she barked.  
  
Stepping forwards, the tall woman picked Taylor out of Danny’s hands with very little effort.  
  
Numb to everything, Danny all but collapsed as his daughter was placed on a bed and wheeled out of sight.  
  
A strong pair of arms wrapped around him and pulled him upright. “It’ll be alright, just follow me, we need to ask you some questions,” a woman said. She was dressed like a nurse.  
  
Exhausted, running on fear, pain and adrenaline, Danny couldn’t do more than nod and let her lead him in the direction they had taken Taylor.  
  


##

(Taylor)  
  
When I woke up, I felt better than I should have. I could still remember the feeling of that creature driving its claws into my side, but right now, all I felt was hungry and a little bit groggy.  
  
I spent a few minutes just lying there with my eyes closed. I could hear talking and movement off in the distance, but I couldn’t make out what people were saying. I didn’t want to get up just yet so I settle for opening my eyes.  
  
The ceiling above me was white, as were the walls. The smell of antiseptic and bleach lingered over everything. It was a downside to enhanced senses that most people either forgot or ignored. All those little background smells and sounds that everyone else took for granted were much harder for me to block out.  
  
I could also hear someone breathing nearby.  
  
There was also a lingering emotion hanging over everything, but I couldn’t place it. Hope, maybe, with suffering and pain mixed in? Given everything that had happened, I guessed I was in a hospital, which would explain the smell.  
  
Snuggling deeper in the blankets, I felt my tail brushing against the sheets. After my transformation, I’d found I could stay shape shifted while I slept, but I always woke up feeling tense, like I’d slept in an odd position. FYI, sleeping with horns? Not easy, especially if you don't want to keep waking up with pillows impaled on them.  
  
 _Shit!_ With a start, I realised I was in my real appearance and possibly in a hospital!  
  
Opening my eyes, I quickly sat up, stopping only when the room spun around me because I’d moved too fast.  
  
Looking round, I found myself in a small room with light green walls, and the nearby window had been covered with a film that let light in, but made it impossible to see through. Aside from the bed, the only other furniture was a wheeled office chair and a padded armchair with Dad sleeping in it.  
  
He looked like hell. His skin was pale, and even while sleeping, he had dark rings around his eyes. His clothes weren't much better. They were creased, like he’d been sleeping in them, and there were even blood stains in places.  
  
Seeing him there reminded me of the look on his face before I’d passed out. I didn’t even want to think about how much I must have scared him, coming home like that. _How did I get home, anyway?_  
  
Still, if Dad was here, there wasn’t much point in worrying about possibly outing myself as a cape or something.  
  
Rearranging the pillows, I sat back and let my mind wander. There wasn’t much else to do; there was a TV, but I couldn’t see the remote anywhere, and I didn’t want to wake Dad.  
  
Closing my eyes, I reached out with my empathy. If this was a hospital, it was a really small one. I could only feel a handful of people nearby at best. There wasn’t a lot of energy, but I tried to subtly draw on what I could.  
  
Next to me, I could feel Dad’s emotions darken, and something about it told me he was having a nightmare.  
  
“D-” I coughed briefly, suddenly aware how dry my throat was. Clearing my throat, I tried again. “Dad? Hey, Dad?”  
  
I tried not to be too loud, just in case anyone was sleeping in a different room, but it turned out I didn’t need to worry. Almost as soon as I started talking, Dad woke with a start.  
  
“Taylor?” he asked blearily before focusing on me. “Taylor! Oh thank god!”  
  
I never got a chance to say anything; he rose out of the chair and wrapped me in a hug. I tried not to let myself get too choked up, but I let myself enjoy the contact for a bit before assuring him I was fine.  
  
“Taylor, what happened?” he asked eventually.  
  
“I…” I paused briefly, considering what to tell him. He had enough to deal with, and I didn’t want to add to it, but if I lied now, wouldn’t it just make matters worse?  
  
Sighing, I told him everything. Going to the library, heading home, hearing a scream, the… thing that was attacking that woman, everything.

  
##

 

“Oh Taylor,” Dad said softly, pinching his nose under his glasses, as I finished.  
  
“I wasn’t looking for trouble, I swear! But I had to do _something_ , I couldn’t just let it kill her!” I said quickly.  
Dad gave a quiet, dark, little chuckle. “No, I suppose not… you’re our daughter after all…“   
  
While he lapsed into a thoughtful silence, I decided to try asking the questions that had niggled at me since I’d woken up.  
  
“Dad, what was that thing? And where are we?”  
  
Shrugging, Dad told hold of my hand and sat, looking thoughtful. “If I had to guess, I’d say that creature was a vampire. A young one too, by the sounds of it.”  
  
“A vampire?”  
  
He laughed at my disbelieving look, “You’re a succubus. Is it so hard to believe vampires are real? I promise you they are, but they’re nothing like the things you see on TV. As for where we are… I couldn’t take you to a hospital.” He held up a hand to forestall my question. “I promise, I’ll explain it later, but for now, know it would be a really bad idea for you to go to a hospital.  
  
“There's no real magical healers in the city anymore, so that just left this place… We’re at Panacea’s clinic.”  
  
I felt the blood rush from my face. “Dad, you can’t! Do you know how expensive she is?”  
  
Panacea was a rogue, that is, a parahuman who used their powers to make a legal living. She’d started healing people a year or two ago, and eventually moved on to having her own practice.  
  
Her services were fairly cheap for simple things, but the prices rose quickly. And the prices she charged for cosmetic alterations was incredible. I’d looked at her website once, when Emma’s taunting about my looks had really gotten to me. Even just fixing my eyes — when I still needed glasses, anyway — would have cost a fortune.  
  
Strictly speaking, she was actually cheaper than a hospital, but only a few health insurance companies would agree to cover parahuman healing, and almost none of them would pay out for cosmetic surgery performed by a cape.  
  
“You let me worry about that,” Dad said firmly, with a hint of finality in his voice.  
  
Before any more could be said, there was a knock on the door, and a nurse came in. She was pushing a small trolley with a bowl of food and what looked like a large milkshake.  
  
“Good morning Miss Hebert, I’m glad to see you’re doing better,” she said cheerfully, positioning the tray next to my bed. “I’ve got your breakfast here and Panacea should be by in a few minutes to give you a final checkup.”  
  
The smell of the food made my stomach growl, reminding me again just how hungry I was, and Dad moved out of the way so I could eat. The bowl was filled with porridge and had a large bowl of sugar for me to add, while the drink was just like a really thick milkshake and smelled strongly of vanilla. Thankfully, it smelled stronger than it tasted.  
  
“What is this?” I asked in between sips.  
  
“It’s a nutrient drink we offer to anyone who needs a lot of healing,” the nurse said. “Panacea can’t create mass, so she uses body fat and often leaves people feeling extremely hungry. The food is just to help bring your weight back up quickly. I’d suggest eating slightly larger meals for a few days, but don’t overdo it.”  
  
Nodding, I finished my drink. I’d been sitting here the entire time with my horns and wings visible, yet the nurse hadn’t so much as blinked at my appearance. It felt odd. So far, Dad was the only one who’d really seen the real me. To anyone else, I was the tall, skinny, quiet girl at Winslow — who had finally started to fill out — or the tall, curvy girl at the mall that one weekend.  
  
Once I was finished with my meal, the nurse handed me a large pair of sweatpants and a hoodie for me to wear and left, taking the tray with her.  
  
Despite the meal and full stomach, I still felt hungry, but there was nothing I could do about that unless I could convince dad to stop by a mall or something. There just weren’t enough people in the building.  
  
While I got changed, Dad waited outside. At some point, I’d been dressed in a hospital gown, the slit at the back giving plenty of space for my tail. Between the tears and the blood, I supposed the clothes I’d been wearing were ruined. I’d been wearing one of my sports bras last night; it was probably beyond saving now, and the thought of buying another made me wince. Those things were expensive at my size.  
  
The clothes the nurse had given me were simple, cheap gray affairs with stretchy waist bands and ankles on the pants. Unfortunately, they were a little short in the leg and arm and a bit snug in the chest, but were thick enough that I could make do for now.  
  
Thankfully, my trainers had been spared and had been included with the clothes.  
  
I was just debating whether I should shapeshift when there was a knock on the door.  
  
“Excuse me? Miss Hebert, it’s Panacea, are you dressed?”  
  
I was about to say no and quickly change my form when I realised it was pointless. Panacea had healed me last night; that meant she already knew what I looked like, and transforming now would probably raise more questions that I didn’t want to answer.  
  
“Y-Yeah! I'm decent,” I called back.  
  
Opening the door, Panacea looked just like the images I’d seen online.  
  
She was shorter than me with a costume that practically covered her entire body. It was a white hooded robe with a red trim and a healer’s cross on the front. A red scarf wrapped around the lower half of her face, leaving her eyes visible and just enough of her cheeks that I could see freckles.   
  
Stopping just inside the door, she glanced at me with a small wince. “Sorry, those are the largest clothes we had in stock. Unless you’d prefer a man’s size?”  
  
Tugging at the hem of the hoodie, I shook my head. “N-no, it’s fine, I’ll change when I get home anyway,” I said nervously.  
  
Nodding, Panacea walked over to the office chair and sat down. She waved at the empty armchair. “Take a seat, this won’t take long.”  
  
Nodding and hoping not to make a fool of myself, I quickly sat down and held out my hand when prompted.  
  
Holding my hand, Panacea hummed to herself. “Looks like you’re fine. Did you know you’ve got a minor healing factor?”  
  
“Y-yeah. It’s not very fast though.”  
  
Unlike the nurse, Panacea kept glancing at my horns, wings and scales. She was giving off a mix of surprise, interest and even… attraction? At one point, I was willing to swear I caught her glancing at my bust.  
  
Leaning back in her chair, Panacea stared through me. There was something familiar about her eyes, but I couldn’t place it. The taste of her indecision danced on my tongue before she took a breath and stood up.  
  
“One moment please.” Walking back outside, I heard her asking dad if we could have a bit of privacy and sending him down the hall to get himself some coffee. That done, she came back into the room and closed the door.  
  
“I just want to ask you some questions, if that’s all right?”  
  
“Umm, sure?” I said nervously, wondering where this was going.  
  
“Would it be okay for me to ask… what you are?... my receptionist thought you were a Case 53, but your body is too uniform, too well constructed, for that. I’d almost think you were a changer, but you don’t have a gemma, which means no powers.”  
  
Ah. I should have expected this. I’m not sure what she meant by uniform, but Case 53 did sound familiar, something about capes who got turned into monsters by their powers. When I’d considered being a hero, I’d thought about passing myself off as a parahuman, but if she already knew I didn’t have powers, that wasn’t going to work.  
  
Picking up on my indecision, Panacea held up a hand. “I promise, whatever you say won’t go any farther than this room. It won’t be written down and I won’t discuss it with anyone.”  
  
She was radiating nothing but honesty, friendly curiosity and a bit of embarrassment tinged with attraction. So at least I knew she meant what she was saying. _Empathy for the win!_  
  
Eventually, I decided on honesty.  
  
“Magic,” I explained. “My Mom came from a parallel world with lots of magic. Apparently, they all look like this there.” It wasn’t the full truth, but close enough. I wasn’t sure how she would react if I said I was a succubus.  
  
“Really?” Panacea said, sitting forward. “I had a guy in here a few months ago who said he could use magic, but he was just high.”  
  
I rolled my eyes. “Do you have a pen and some paper?”  
  
Taking them from her, I quickly scribbled out a simple light spell, charged it and set it off in the corner of the room.  
  
Surprise flowed off Panacea. “Huh.”  
  
Looking at me again, I felt her resolve harden. “Look, don’t take this the wrong way… but I know you don’t have much money.”  
  
I flushed in embarrassment and anger, and Panacea flinched.  
  
“Sorry! I don’t mean anything by it!” she said quickly. “But it's just, how would you like to work for me?”  
  
“W-what?”  
  
Panacea sighed. “While I’ve never seen someone _use_ magic, I have on occasion had to deal with people who have been affected by it and finding a magic user who’s not in the Protectorate is hard. You don’t have to make a decision now, but if you’re willing to help me out, I can offer you decent pay for it.”  
  
I could taste her concern and embarrassment, but there was honesty there. The offer was genuine.  
  
“I… I need to think about it,” I said quietly.  
  
“That’s fine, like I said, you don’t have to decide now. Talk it over with your dad.”  
  
With that, she stood up and led me out to reception, where Dad was filling out some paperwork.  
  
I’d never considered being a healer before. The idea had merit; it was the heroic thing to do, it would let me help people and I was less likely to get attacked by a fucking _vampire._  
  
I was so caught up in my thoughts I didn’t even notice what I was doing until Dad spoke up.  
  
“You okay kiddo?” he said quietly, making me jump.  
  
I’d somehow managed to walk outside, climb into his truck and put my belt on without even noticing.  
  
“Y-yeah,” I said, shaking the thoughts away. “Dad, is it possible to heal with magic?”  
  
Instead of saying anything, Dad reached into his pocket and pulled out a crumpled up piece of paper with a spell on it.  
  
“That’s a minor healing spell your mother wrote,” he said quietly. “It wasn’t much use for me, but I don’t see why you couldn’t use it.”  
  
Taking it from him, my hands were trembling slightly. I still wanted to learn how to fight, but maybe I could do this as well?  
  
The image of Emma wearing a ‘naughty nurse’ outfit popped into my head, making me blush.  
  
 _Stupid hormones,_ I thought to myself as I tried to force the image away.

* * *


	10. 2-4

The ride home was mostly silent, each of us lost in our own thoughts. Panacea's offer was tempting, but I was too distracted to really think about it. I could see Dad giving me the occasional glance out the corner of his eye. At one point, while stopped at a light, he lifted his arm like he was planning to touch me, but pulled away at the last second.

He just looked so worn and the taste of guilt was so heavy on him that it was making me feel sick. The tension between us was almost palpable. It felt like we'd gone back to how things had been before my transformation. Back when we barely spoke.

I stared out of the windows in an effort to distract myself, one hand idly tracing where the vampire had bitten me. Now that we were away from the hospital, I was starting to feel drained, weak.

"Taylor, is something wrong?" Dad's voice sounded strange, like I was hearing it through a wall. I turned to face him and the world spun around me.

Grabbing my head, I took a deep breath and waited for the feeling to pass.

"Taylor!?"

"I'm—" I took another breath. "I'm alright. Just felt a bit dizzy."

Pulling over, Dad stared at my face, putting one hand to my forehead. "When did you last eat?"

"I had that drink thing at Panacea's."

"No, when did you last _eat_ ," he repeated with more emphasis.

 _Oh, oh!_ "At the library last night, but I guess it wasn't enough."

Huffing, Dad put the truck into gear. "I know you probably just want to get home, but I think it's best we go to the mall and get you some breakfast first."

I wanted to argue, as I really wasn't dressed for a trip to the mall, but now that I was aware of it, I was having a harder time ignoring my hunger.

"You need to eat more," Dad warned. "Magic, flying, shapeshifting. The more you do, the more energy you'll need. It's not like you need to worry about getting fat." He smiled weakly at his joke, and I smiled despite playfully groaning.

"Have you been eating at school?"

"I… No, not really. I keep meaning to but…" But what? The school was a perfect place to eat, yet I was coming home nearly starving every day, having to take quick nibbles on the bus just to get by.

"I'm not sure," I said eventually. "I do try, but something keeps stopping me and I end up trying to feed quickly on the bus… I don't, I don't know why…"

"You said there's wards around your school? It's possible they're stopping you." Dad sighed. "I wish you'd told me… I know you planned to stick it out, but maybe you should consider staying home until you can change scho—"

"Yes!" Realising just how quickly I'd spoken, I flushed in embarrassment.

Pulling to a stop outside the mall, Dad gave me a long look.

"I'm sorry, Taylor." He put a hand on my shoulder. "I wish I'd known. I should have noticed."

"It doesn't matter." The argument sounded weak, even to me. I had been the one to hide everything from him. He didn't need to keep apologising.

"Yes, it does. When we get home, I'll contact Winslow. I'm pulling you out of that school. you can study from home for now. Okay?"

Not trusting myself to speak, I just nodded. Leaving Winslow felt like giving in, like I'd let Emma win. But, at the same time, I could feel a tension leaving my body. I didn't need to worry about it anymore.

Despite all the emotions I could taste in the air, Dad's voice was level and his face relaxed. It was kind of scary how well he could hide his expressions, but I supposed he'd had a lot of practice.

"Good, now let's get you fed and then back home."

I shook my head. "Just, give me a minute."

Even from the parking lot, I could feel the collected energy of everyone in the mall. I was too far away to really feed on it, but I was close enough that I could pull some of it in. Once I was confident I wasn't going to pass out or something, I forced myself to transform into my 'normal, school' appearance, complete with more suitable clothes.

Having a seat belt suddenly pull tight against my now flat chest was a novel, and somewhat painful, experience. _Note to self, sensitivity is the same, no matter what size they are._

Rubbing my chest, I ignored Dad's laugh and followed him into the mall. I was nearly at the doors when something occurred to me.

"Dad… that thing last night _bit_ me. Do I need to be worried about that?"

Dad blinked in surprise, then laughed. "Dad?" Ignoring me, he walked off ahead, with me following close behind.

##

 _Mornings,_ Dauntless decided, _should be banned._

He'd been up most of the night on patrol, then spent another two hours recharging his equipment before finally falling asleep sometime around dawn with a plan to sleep until noon.

He'd managed to get a few brief hours of sleep before he'd gotten the call from Miss Militia about the upcoming meeting and that he had to attend.

Blinking in an effort to get his eyes to focus, it took him far too long to recognise the coffee cup that had been placed in front of him. Reaching out for it, he looked up into the amused face of Assault.

"Marry me?" he asked as he grabbed his cup.

Assault laughed and looked towards his wife. "What do you think, should we keep him?"

Battery flushed, but managed to smirk. "Well… you are both very pretty."

Around them, the other Protectorate capes laughed as Assault openly gaped. It was rare she managed to get one over on him.

Sipping his coffee, Dauntless shrugged. "Eh, I'm game."

Assault looked between them both, then dropped heavily into his chair, arms crossed in a mock pout. "You're both evil!"

"Alright, that's enough," Armsmaster said, bringing the laughter to a stop. Dauntless couldn't be certain, but he was fairly sure Armsmaster was glaring at him behind his visor.

"I know some of you are off duty, but this is important."

The wall behind Armsmaster lit up and Dauntless forced himself not to groan. If Armsmaster was using the wall screens, then this meeting was likely to go on for the rest of the day.

"First off, it's come to my attention that we have not been having our team meetings as regularly as we should—"

"Aren't _you_ the one who's supposed to schedule them?" Assault said. Dauntless hid his smile behind his cup.

The visible parts of Armsmasters face flushed. "Yes… well I've been busy…" Clearing his throat, he attempted to get the meeting back under control.

"That's why I have asked Miss Militia to assist me. While she has always been my unofficial second in command, I've spoken to the director and made it official."

"So… you're _officially_ making her do the work for you?" Dauntless couldn't have stopped himself if he'd tried. He really wasn't awake if he was saying things like that aloud.

Armsmaster glared, but any retort he might have made was cut off by the laughter around them.

Thankfully, Miss Militia — Hannah, as she wasn't wearing her mask — didn't seem to be too upset.

"That aside," she said before Armsmaster could reprimand them all, "there are a few things we need to go over."

The rest of the meeting was the usual busy work — new patrol routes, gang sightings and so on — so Dauntless felt no shame for tuning most of it out. Eventually, though, the image of a man nailed to the wall came onto the screen, catching his attention.

"There has been a development in the Shadow Stalker case. This —" Armsmaster gestured at the picture "— was taken last night. Coroner puts the time of death at two days ago. The arrows used are of a common brand, low cost and easy to find, but they match those used most often by Shadow Stalker."

"That's not much to go on." Hannah frowned at the picture. "We'd need more than that to arrest her. Besides, if the bolts are easy to get, then this might just be someone trying to frame her."

Dauntless nodded. Framing a troublesome hero or rival villain wasn't an uncommon tactic, after all. He tapped the desk to bring up more information on the case. Attitude aside, Armsmaster was nothing if not thorough. Sure enough, dozens of reports appeared: forensic analysis, arrow trajectories, possible angles of attack.

Armsmaster continued, "I agree, but Shadow Stalker's behaviour has been getting steadily more erratic lately. The level of violence has increased faster than is normal for an independent hero. As such, we have been asked to bring her in for questioning."

 _And depending on how_ that _goes,_ Dauntless thought to himself, _she'll likely end up in the wards or in prison._ It was galling, really, that things were so bad that violent criminals could be allowed onto the team.

Looking at the notes before him, Armsmaster's jaw tightened. "One last thing. Dauntless, I suspect this is your area of expertise. This man attacked a young woman last night. The victim is in the hospital, but is expected to make a full recovery."

A picture appeared on screen of a corpse. Its skin was sunken and waxy, giving it a gaunt look. Dauntless didn't need to see the fangs to know what it was.

"Yeah, that's a vampire." He'd only dealt with a vampire once, back when he was still a student, studying under Dr. River. That the victim had survived was surprising. Vampires were typically messy eaters, and most people died long before the vampire was full. They also weren't as common as they used to be.

"Huh, less sparkly than I was expecting." Assault grinned, but it quickly faded when no one laughed.

"Vampires really aren't like that." Dauntless sighed. Rubbing his face, he tried to recall his old lessons under Dr. River.

"They're parasites, one step above zombies, really. They happen when a person dies alone. I mean, _completely_ alone. No friends, no family, no _name_. Just completely forgotten about by society. A minor spirit, possibly of anger or regret, will enter the corpse, turning it into a vampire. The result is more like a rabid animal than a person. It has some instincts, just enough brains to stick to dark places and ambush people. But once they attack something, they'll keep going until one of them is dead."

"I see… between the internet and social media, that kind of death is rare," Armsmaster said. "Is their bite contagious, or is that just a story?"

"Yeah, the tradition of cremating unclaimed corpses helped, even if most don't know why it's done. As for creating more… no. Most modern vampire legends are really the mixing of lots of different stories. If you happen to meet one, destroy the head or the heart and that'll be the end of it. Fire works too, but then, fire kills most things."

Still, something about the vampire's corpse bothered him. Bringing up the report, Dauntless started skimming through. "What killed it? Even a young vampire should be more than a match for a normal human, but it looks like it was stabbed to death."

"According to the victim report, she was saved by a parahuman. The description doesn't match anything on file, so I'm assuming it's a new trigger."

Dauntless whistled. A new trigger taking a vampire? That was impressive. _Or stupidly lucky._

"So there's a new hero in the bay? Guess things are looking up," Assault said.

"Yes, though I'm already scanning hospital reports for anyone who matches the description. So far, nothing has come up," Armsmaster said.

"Why?"

"It's in the report in front of you," Armsmaster said with a sigh. "Apparently, the cape was severely injured in the fight. A large amount of blood was found at the scene, and a preliminary investigation confirmed it was female. Unfortunately, the blood sample evaporated before I could finish testing — which tells me it was likely magical."

Okay, that wasn't right. Human blood — even that of a magic user — didn't do that, so it had to have come from a creature. There were only a few magical creatures that could pass for human, and none of them were really the heroic types.

"Did you say there's a description?"

"Yes. Female, pale skin, long hair, nearly six foot tall with wings, horns, and a tail. The report also mentioned scales and that the girl vanished in a swirl of black."

"Fuck!" _No, no no no! It can't be!_ Taking a deep breath, Dauntless ran a hand down his face and tried to calm down. That description had done more to wake him up than any coffee.

"You okay?" Assault asked, leaning forward in his seat.

"Yeah… yeah I'm fine, it's just… Okay, it sounds like we're dealing with a succubus and yes, that's a bad thing," Dauntless said before Assault could make a joke. "It's a magical creature that feeds on humans. It was probably targeting the victim when the vampire turned up. I guess it was too badly injured to finish the victim off and chose to run away."

"Okay, what do we need to know? How smart is this creature?"

He tried to think back to his lessons with Dr. River. His teacher had never dealt with a succubus personally, but it wasn't hard to find the stories about them.

"Human level. They're shapeshifters by nature and typically look like beautiful young women. Normally, they try to avoid fighting and prefer manipulation and trickery. If you meet one, assume master/stranger powers. Honestly, I suggest shooting _first_."

"Seriously? That's harsh man. She _did_ save that girl, after all."

" _Don't_ assume human motives. Besides, succubi aren't native to this world, they're demons and can only come to this world if summoned. If you kill one, they just get sent back to their home dimension."

"Oh, like that cat?... I mean… I think it was a cat… I can't…" Triumph shook his head, and Dauntless squeezed his shoulder.

"Don't think about it, let the memory fade, it'll be better for you if you do."

Triumph nodded, taking a breath as she slowly calmed down and her body returned to normal. Dauntless really needed to find a cure for that curse.

"I can see two options. One, the succubus is being compelled to follow someone else's commands, or two, it's already killed its summoner and is running free. Either way, it's unpredictable. For now, if you see one, pull back and call for help. I'll see if I can make something that can break illusions."

"Master, stranger, changer... that's quite a collection of abilities. How would someone go about summoning one? Can you tell us anything about the summoner?"

"It'll be a villain, someone who can use magic and is powerful. When you summon a creature, you have to add spells to force them to obey you. If you don't, there's nothing stopping them from attacking you. Most summoned creatures are just clever animals, but a succubus is different. They can plan and will often try to get free through trickery or demand _payment_ for their services. Odds are good the succubus or the summoner have already killed in the past and will do so again."

Armsmaster tapped the tablet in front of him for a while, lost in thought. Eventually, though, he nodded.

"Alright, I'm putting you in charge of this investigation but I want regular reports. Miss Militia, can you back him up?"

"Of course."

As the meeting broke up around them, Dauntless continued to stare at the dead vampire. If there really was a succubus here, he'd need to take precautions. His armour was already spelled against mind control and anything else he could think of. Maybe one of Dr. Rivers' old contacts would have more information he could use?

If nothing else, a succubus should be just as vulnerable to his lance as anything else.

Sighing, he stood up and headed for his workshop. If he was going to fight a succubus, he needed to make sure his gear was up to it.

##

**Tuesday**

Scurrying down the street on his way home from school, Greg Veder tried not to make eye contact with anyone lest he give himself away.

He'd killed her! Oh god, he'd killed her.

The thought ran in circles through his mind, burning the words in letters six feet high on the inside of his skull. Her screams as her skin tore apart had echoed in his ears as he ran and continued long into the night.

He, he needed to tell someone, anyone. Maybe he should go to the police, tell them it was an accident. They'd bel—

Shadows moved in the corner of his eye, but when he turned to look, there was no one there.

_Calm down, you're just seeing things._

"Yeah, _no_. I mean seriously, the guy was pathetic! I mean—"

Greg turned his head so fast that something in his neck went 'ping'. For just a moment, he saw her standing there on the other side of the street. Her brown hair was waving in the wind as she spoke on her phone. His heart stopped when she glanced in his direction, her eyes empty pools of darkness, pulling him in even as every nerve in his body screamed at him to run.

A passing bus hid her from view, and when it was gone, she had vanished.

Stumbling backwards, Greg barely paid attention to the man he walked into.

"I'm sorry!" he screamed as he ran.

##

**Wednesday**

Shutting his bedroom door, Greg leaned back against the wood, letting himself slowly slide down until he was sitting on the floor with his knees against his chest.

He'd heard people talking at school. 'Madison's at home, she was mugged and needs to rest'. But that was impossible. He'd seen her die; the image of her flesh sloughing off haunted what little sleep he'd managed to get in the last few days.

"Greg? You okay sweetie?" His mom's voice drifted up stairs, distracting him from the memories.

"Y-yeah!" He tried to push the terror down, tried to sound normal. "I'm fine, I'll be down in a minute!"

Standing up, he threw his jacket and bag onto his bed. Grabbing a clean t-shirt, he quickly got changed. Pulling a water bottle from his bag, he poured it over his dirty shirt.

Glancing out his window, he saw a pair of yellow eyes staring up at him from the darkness. They seemed to float there, twin spots of light in the middle of a dark shape, before moving forward.

A faint purple haze appeared in front of the creature, stopping it in its tracks. Greg almost laughed. It couldn't get in! The ward he'd built worked! The house was safe!

The eyes continued to glare up at him as a dark shape, almost like a hand, reached up and pressed against the ward. More of the ward became visible, the glow highlighting the creature's body. It looked like a walking shadow in a roughly female shape. _Madison?_ Greg's stomach fell as she pushed harder and the purple haze started to bulge inwards under the pressure.

"Greg! Dinner!" His mom's voice echoed through the house, making him jump.

Greg glanced quickly at his door, then back into the garden. Madison had vanished. The ward hadn't failed, he could still see it faintly, but the message was clear: it wouldn't stop her for long.

"Greg?!"

"C-coming!"

Grabbing the sodden shirt, he quickly went down stairs. "Sorry Mom, I spilled a drink on my shirt and wanted to get changed."

##

**Thursday**

Three days. It had been three days since he'd killed Madison. Three days since he'd had more than an hour's sleep, and three days since he'd been able to eat without feeling sick. Yet no one cared.

Greg had been watching the news, the papers, and even PHO. Madison's body hadn't been found yet; no one even seemed to know she was gone. _If_ she was even gone.

For days now, he'd been seeing her. In the streets, outside his home, in his dreams.

Madison was dead, he knew that. So what was the thing he kept seeing?

There had been vague warnings in the Grimoire about summonings. They'd mentioned letting things into the world, evil things, _old_ things. Was that what was happen?

His hands were shaking again. Taking a deep breath, Greg looked out the window in an effort to calm down. If, if he'd really let something through, then he needed to tell someone. The police? Maybe the PRT, they could use magic, right?

_But then they'll know what you did._

Maybe, maybe that was for the best. He couldn't go on like this, no sleep, no food, and the constant gnawing of guilt—

Madison walked through the school gates, her hair bouncing as she walked. There was a cast on one of her arms and she had a bit of a limp, but she was smiling. She looked up, and just for a moment, Greg realised she was looking at him. Her smile changed, becoming something else.

"Mr. Veder, is there a problem?" Mrs. Fuller snapped as he all but leapt out of his chair.

"Ah! N-no, sorry! I — I need to use the bathroom!" Grabbing his bag, Greg ran from the room, not waiting for permission and ignoring the giggles.

Running to the nearest bathroom, Greg pulled his phone from his pocket. The PRT, they could handle this, he had to call them!

In his panic, his fingers fumbled with the keys and it took him three tries to get the right number.

"Emergency ser—"

"I need help! She's _here_!"

"Sir?

"She's here! I killed her!" He took a breath that was somewhere between a gasp and a sob. "It was an accident I _swear_ , but she's alive and different and now she's here and she's _stalking_ me!"

"Sir, sir I need you to listen to me." The woman's voice was calm and well practiced. "Now, tell me, are you safe?"

"I — I don't know. I'm hiding in the bathroom. I'm at school."

"Okay, that's good. We're having trouble tracking your location. Can you tell me where you are?"

"I'm at Winslow High, just please hurry."

"Don't worry, I've got officers on the way, I just need you to stay on the line."

"Yeah, yeah I can —" With a beep, the battery in his phone died. "What! No! No, no, no!"

Shaking his phone, Greg tried to will his phone back to life. There had to be something wrong! It had been fully charged when he'd reached school!

Giving up, Greg slumped down onto the toilet seat and tried to calm himself down. They knew where he was. They were coming.

Maybe it was exhaustion taking its toll, but one thought above all others kept bubbling to the surface.

_Mom is going to kill me._

##

The operator sighed as the line went dead and put another mark on the tally.

"Prank call?" the man next to her said.

"Yeah, some kids down in the docks. Idiot could barely stop giggling."

"You call it in?"

She rolled her eyes. Prank calls were annoying, but that didn't mean she wouldn't do her job. "Of course! I'm not that stupid. A nearby patrol is gonna check it out. With any luck, they'll catch the kids."

##

 _Where are they?_ It had been more than an hour now, and Greg hadn't heard anything beyond the bell.

Had something happened? Did they think it was a hoax? If the police weren't coming, he'd go to them!

Giving up, he slowly left the bathroom. Lunch was in full swing, the hallways packed with students.

He was almost out of the building when he saw her. She was standing nearby, talking to Emma and Sophia. If not for the bruises and cast, he'd never know something was wrong.

Looking past her friends, she smiled at him. The sound of the corridor faded and her smile widened. Emma and Sophia continued to talk, unaware or uncaring about what she was doing.

Madison's smile widened as Greg backed up, his back pressing against the rows of lockers, the smell of blood filling his nose.

"..." _I'm sorry!_

Pushing past her friends, Madison walked forward, her smile growing. He tried to turn away, to run or call for help, but he couldn't move.

"I..." _I'm so sorry!_

A soft, delicate hand pressed against his chest and Madison looked up at him, her smile running literally from ear to ear, her mouth filled with razor sharp teeth. Her nails felt like claws pressing against his skin.

"I'm sorry!" he choked out, tears running freely down his face. The strength left his body, and Madison pressing against him was all that was holding him up.

Her eyes flashed yellow, and when she spoke, it was with two voices.

"No, no you're not. Not yet anyway."

"P—pleas—"

"Do not waste my time begging. I only want one thing from you. Where. Is. The. Book?!" her free hand came up, wrapping her claws around his throat as wisps of black smoke began to rise from her body. Her smile was gone, but the razor sharp teeth remained.

"I don't know! Plea—" Her claws tightened in warning. "It's the truth! I left it in the factory!"

"You never went back for it?"

"NO! I couldn't, not after, not after what happened." He could feel warmth spreading down his legs. Around them, other students had stopped to watch, their blank eyes unblinking.

Madison rose up, her body lengthening until she was looking down at him. "You are a coward, Greg." Her voice was little more than a hiss, her breath hot against his face and her eyes glowing yellow slits against her darkening skin.

"A coward and a fool. I'd tear your fucking heart out, but I may yet need you alive to fix this fucking mess. So for now, you get to live."

Greg opened his eyes with a start. Madison was laughing at something Emma had said, her body totally normal. Around him, other students were going about like normal. The pain from her claws was gone, as was the wet patch on his jeans.

_Did I imagine everything?_

Shaking, he looked back up at Madison. Her eyes flashed yellow as she glared at him.

Greg turned and ran.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An: had this chapter sitting around for awhile and decided to finish it. The entire Greg section was written over the course of a couple of hours :D poor bastard can’t catch a break.


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